I'll admit a guilty secret, even knowing that some readers will tuck it away, like villagers collecting cobblestones, to hurl back at me later on: but I secretly hope that these columns have staying power, an interest beyond the next day. I don't imagine that people are going to be studying them, like British schoolboys learning Horace. But I fancy they aren't yogurt-level ephemeral either, which is probably just crazy, given the inky obscurity awaiting all journalists.
So I was pleased, when the paper dug up this "Don't let the door hit you in the ass Oprah" column from two years ago, and gave it a bit of ballyhoo on Wednesday, to mark her shutting down Harpo Studios this week. Not that it's the Gettysburg Address or anything, and it'll have to become meaningless someday, because Oprah Winfrey will become another musty chestnut of television history, along with Jack Paar and John Cameron Swayze.
Which puts a whole new spin on this obscurity business. If oblivion can dislocate its jaw wide enough to swallow an Oprah Winfrey, it'll of course gobble up the rest of us minnows as well and, frankly, vanishing utterly ourselves is a small price to pay if it means Oprah goes away too, eventually, thank God.