'Truth be told...'

That's one of my friend Dave's 'go to,' stock pattern reliable phrases. If it doesn't come drop from his lips, it just doesn't sound right. When I was 7, I made my 1st confession. To a man. In a dark box. I think my head barely reached the bottom of the screen. We were told the priest couldn't see past the screen. As if. Now that I know there is such a thing as gender inequality; I have a lot of burning questions surrounding all those, 'true confessions.'

1. Golden Globe. Or Globes, remains the rollicking, alcohol infused, numero uno hardware event of the year. Left for DOA by the white male majority of the Academy Awards, and ripped by the uptight Congressional Committee, Kathryn Bigelow, and ZD30 got a huge boost when Jessica Chastain (who could have gone down with that ship as collateral damage) picked up the hardware for Best actress/actor in a dramatic role.  The most agonizing moment of the evening was Jodie Foster's speech after being presented with the Cecil B DeMille award for her body of work. Nervous, edgy, Jodie officially 'came out,' in a cloaked -between-the-lines sorta moment. Hey babe, your tribe always knew it. You're queer. You're here. Everyone get used to it.

2. Lance Armstrong. And Oprah. Who cares about contrition. The years of lies, and ruined lives will be the legacy. 'Truth be told.' Not in this lifetime.

3. Abigail Van Buren. Dear Abbey. Smart. Snappy. And to the point. I preferred her twin, Ann Landers, and as kid read both their columns. Ann seemed more like your favorite aunt dishing out the advice. Abbey, blunt, cut to the chase. What a run they both had! A public forum. Free advice. What's not to like? Pauline Friedman Phillips aka Abbey died today after a long battle with Alzheimer.