WHO NEEDS A CONFESSOR THESE DAYS?

It just amazes me that we have become such an “open” society these days. By that I mean, we are so willing to share the deepest, darkest, most private of secrets and thoughts to anyone who will listen. Our utmost desire to “connect and communicate” has become the equivalent of a public confessional into which we enter, ready to lay it all out there for the world to digest without shame or humility. Who needs a confessor these days when Twitter, My Space, Facebook and the press is there to record word for word our most profound and intimate thoughts and digressions?

Let’s start with Mark Sanford, a man who apparently has been cheating on his wife while in pursuit of his “soul mate” and who is insistent upon purging his conscience of even more digressions while reporters stand aside as he bears his soul. It is not enough to know that the man left the country in his pursuit of pleasure on Father’s Day while he played house with some Argentine bimbo whose former boyfriend accessed her e-mail account and forwarded the “love notes” to his hometown paper. Nope, Mark had even more to get off his chest by bringing up other dalliances along the way that had little or nothing to do with how he was governing his state or the people who saw fit to elect him into the office. But he did manage to weave his own version of “religion” into his slimy narrative thus hoping to absolve himself of the rightful outrage his actions produced. The outcry from women’s groups has been tenfold in calling for his resignation while the woman at issue, the above mentioned bimbo who knew he was married and the father of four sons, goes unscathed. Naturally we are all more or less expecting that the aggrieved wife, dumped mistress, and recalcitrant louse in this situation will be interviewed and probably contacted to write about this chapter of their lives and even more salacious gossip is bound to follow.

If we dial back a few months, we have Elizabeth Edwards promoting her book of woes on all the A list shows, decrying the shame and heartbreak visited upon herself by her lying, cheating spouse. She held little back, offering her side of this triangle while the errant hubby stood on the sidelines applauding her efforts to instruct the listeners to the inside workings of their marriage while the cash registers recorded the sales. The “bimbo” in this trio has yet to tell her story of finding a “soul mate” in this married man whose wife was also suffering from cancer but she did manage to Tweet out or e-mail her version of events which found the happy couple waltzing down the aisle as soon as Elizabeth breathed her last which may possibly be another chapter finding its way to another awful reality show, “Bridezilla”. Apart from the normal whining and insufferable brides featured on that debacle, we would have a “peek” at the planning stages for this event based on finding a date for the nuptials based solely on the eventual passing of the said spouse of the moment. Stay tuned.

Elliot Spitzer was another idiot who took advantage of the airwaves to plead his case of misconduct while his “bimbo”, well paid by all accounts for her contributions, laid out in full his preferences for titulation and arousal without once feeling even a little bit chagrined. No holds barred there!

I frankly had never heard of Jon and Kate until the tabloids and t.v shows seized upon the fact that these two supposedly happily married people were actually heading for divorce. These two subjects of a successful program that highlighted raising 8 children, 6 of them sextuplets, sat before the cameras, either alone or separate, to detail the inner workings of their special relationship by taking shots at one another and allowing yet another glimpse into their marriage. Whatever passed for “intimacy” with that couple descended into sarcasm, potshots, and the likelihood of divorce. Few stones were left unturned while the “bimbo” in this instance was considered a possible walk on guest star in future episodes. Does it get any shabbier than this? I mean is it possible that she never knew that this was a married man with – count them – 8 kids?

Tune into any of these “reality” shows that offer intervention for drug addiction, weight loss, make overs, “wife swapping” and the like, and you will find ordinary people more than willing to share information about themselves, their families, their friends, their weight, and their sex lives all without hesitation. The camera in these instances has become the new BFF. Censoring one’s thoughts or filtering what one says has become passé. Just let it all hang out and damn those who would judge. Never mind that these statements and actions are captured forever on tape and if the kids are uncomfortable, well we are only doing this “for them”. Setting the record straight as they say. Really?

The online bloggers are no different with the exception that their revelations are penned under screen names that more or less assure a sense of anonymity. However, some of those screen names tell us a lot about the person behind the screen. Bloggers often include personal stories that include personal details better left unsaid. They have little compunction at times in revealing intimate details of their own lives which more than likely would not be welcomed in a face to face setting. This “sharing” is a way of feeling inclusive to some degree since 99.9% will never be invited onto Oprah to jump upon the couch and announce they are “in love”.

I follow the Red Sox and what strikes me when watching the game as the camera pans the stands are the number of idiots sitting in choice seats gabbing away on their cellphones. The cost of a seat at Fenway Park alone can equal a month’s rent but here they are, right up front, yakking away as if the game itself were not being both televised and transmitted for radio for those at home. This people cannot just sit back and enjoy the outing, they must be connected to someone, somewhere while the thrill of the game unfolds before their very eyes. Surely they are not offering the “color” as the game is being broadcast live. And they could never hope to offer the play by play as well as Jerry Remy so the only reason I can offer for ignoring the players is that they are “sharing” something about themselves that just cannot wait.

Twitter allows us to “stay in touch” with news breaking events. Or so we are told. Yet I find that I am being “followed” by an assortment of names that I am unable to identify who have the urge to advise me that they are walking the dog, reading a book, listening to music, and any other assorted “sillies” for which I have no interest whatsoever. But the urge and the need to announce one’s every thought, word, and deed has become paramount these days. Instead of this “reaching out and touching everyone” on the list, I see more of a sense of despair creeping through this technology and a society in need of “confession”. Looking for that special “soul mate” who will agree that one is not really alone out there in the world and who shares the same feeling of isolation. The need to “connect” by whatever means available to feel a sense of belonging at the same time.

“What happens in Las Vegas stays in Las Vegas” according to the marketing campaign. Not so elsewhere! The overriding sense of bearing one’s soul, heartbreak, anger, disaffection, beliefs, revenge and ego has taken hold upon the psyche and little is considered sacred or out of bounds.

So while we decry the continuation of the FISA bill as an interference into our “privacy”, one has to wonder if we are really serious about this intrusion when observing those who are just can’t spill their guts enough.

Welcome to the century of “blah blah blah”.