"If you were a guy, you'd be Robert Boyd." In high school, that's what one of my teachers told Janey Philburn.
"That's odd."
"I know, but he said it..."
Janey and I laughed about it. I even signed her yearbook, "Janey." Now I'm finding, I signed the stupid thing wrong. I should have signed it, "Jodie."
Now the Web is abuzz. Wifi strands jingle and blog spiders
scramble across their keyboards to pounce. Why? Not because of my revelation, but Jodie Foster has spoken and nobody’s sure what she
said.
See? I am Jodie Foster!
Did she come out?
Did she have too much to drink?
Is she brilliant?
Is she for real?
That Jodie Foster, she’s wacky. To be honest I haven’t been a fan since we were both
kids. She was the voice of Anne
Chan of “The Amazing Chan and the Chan Clan” cartoon, and I was a young
impressionable boy learning about life. Yeah, Jodie Foster was my first cartoon
love. After that we grew apart.
She acted like movie characters I didn’t want to watch. The real
Jodie? I don’t know. I never knew her. She was Freaky on Friday, and lived at
Candleshoe. Beyond that, I got
nuthin’.
Although, after Sunday’s speech I now know a little more—a
little. She came out? I wasn’t
sure, but according to all the entertainment gurus and blog blatherers, she
did. Most of them aren’t happy about it.
They thought she didn’t do it right. I didn’t know there was a “stars
coming out” manual. It must be a
super secret thing for going public. Regular people aren’t allowed to know
about it—but Jodie Foster should have read her star copy.
I’m still not sure she came out. I thought she did that years ago. Can you re-come out? Is there
such a thing as a re-outing? Does it get a party? What do you call it? Dos-I-wasn't kidding-añera? Is there a special
dress? I don’t know these things.
I’ve never read the coming out book. Neither did Jodie or she’d have done it right.
She did say she was single. It’s ok. Gay or not, I still didn’t stand a chance. She’s Jodie Foster. She’s worked with
Keye Luke, Casey Kasem and Scooby Doo. I was Snowboy in my high school
production of “West Side Story.” Not the same thing.
Don’t remember Snowboy? He’s the third Jet to the right.
“Get ‘em Riff!” That was my line. Jodie Foster said more in her not-saying
acceptance speech. She said, “Thank you,” “I’m single,” “I like privacy,” “I
love you, kids,” “I love you, mom,” and “anything else I do in this business is
my business.”
If I ever got an award, I’d like to say the same thing.
Except the single thing, MyQueen would kill me. The rest I’d keep. I’d say that
I’d present it in a little more concise fashion, and my jokes would rock, but
you’ve read my blog. You know that’s a lie.
Or do you? I
mean, like Jodie Foster, I present a persona. I tell you who I want you to
believe I am. Beyond that, what do
you really know? Could you pick me
out of a line up? Maybe, if I stood between Robert Downey Jr. and Lindsay
Lohan. In that, I respect Jodie Foster (yeah, you’d recognize her too, but
that’s not my point). My point is, coming out or coming to in the back of a
car, it’s all immaterial; we only know the part of Jodie that Ms. Foster wants
us to know.
“Nothing up my sleeve, presto!”
“It’s Jodie Foster!”
As one who vomits life onto an unseen page, I respect
somebody who can share her life through the art of others while keeping her
personal life private. You have to be guarded, and that can be a lonely existence.
In the age of idle worship of televised idols it’s nice to
see somebody hide in the shadows cast by limelight. It makes them more
noticeable when they do step into the brilliance.
“[mom] I love you. I love you. I love you.”
Really, what more is there to say? I know I’ve never said
that enough. Now she’s said it three times. Nobody wrote articles about that. The
Huffington Post wrote over five articles dissecting the rest of Jodie’s speech.
Speculating everything, from “what did she really say,” to “Who is the
ex-partner she mentioned?” Isn’t that just like us? In the age of Kardashians
and Boo-Boos we need spoon fed
pap-pulp or we can’t digest it.
“I love you.”
When did we stop thinking? Probably the same time we
idolized our neighbors for not being us and accepted Meh as a way of life.
“I love you.”
The message is as clear as it is heartfelt:
“Thank you.”
“I’m single.”
“I like privacy.”
“I love you, kids.”
“I love you, mom.”
“Anything else I do in this business, is my business.”
All else is carrion for the vultures to peck through.
“I love you.”
Thank you Jodie. I’m married. I love my privacy too. I have
no kids, but I love my mom and dad, and anything else I do in the anonymity of
my blog, is my business.
Especially dream of Anne Chan…
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