"Many people consider me the Oprah Winfrey of the Philippines," said Kris Aquino.
Interesting.
Oprah was born to an unwed, teenage mother who worked as a housemaid. We're talking shit poor. So poor, in fact, that Oprah used to wear dresses fashioned from potato sacks. Through ages 9-13, she was sexually abused repeatedly by her uncle, her cousin and a family friend. At age 14, she became pregnant with a son who soon died in infancy.
In spite of these, she pursued her education. She won an oratory contest to earn a full scholarship to Tennessee State University. From there, she diligently clawed her way up the media ladder and became one of the most influential people of today. History.
She is a stalwart advocate of humanitarianism (poor), equality (black) and feminism (woman). She is The American Dream incarnate, a badass underdog story.
Meanwhile, Kris Aquino's father was a senator. She was born an haciendera, perched comfortably atop a pedestal forged from the sweat of disenfranchised Luisita farmers.
She burst into the showbiz scene by virtue of being marginally talented and telegenic. Her surname may have played a minor role.
She embodies the fucked-up priorities of mainstream media. Her interesting life requires microscopic attention. Her haircuts, breakups and trivial bullshit are far more newsworthy than impending warfare, calamities and the grand theft expo otherwise known as Philippine politics.
She reserves the right to shove her Manolo Blahniks, Kenneth Cobonpue furniture and gourmet food in the faces of people who are barefoot, homeless and starving.
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