...You know,
Often folks will tell complete strangers their inner-most secrets.
It's strange.
They prefer to confide in unknown persons rather than trust their closest friends with the most private of matters.
It's a safe bet maybe.
There's no gambling with loyalties.


A barfly cries into his beer while the bored bartender patiently listens on,
while polishing shot-glasses with his greasy towel.
A lonely traveller tells the weary taxidriver the story of his dumb pathetic life,
while the hack understandingly nods and silently curses the rush-hour traffic under his breath.
The fat suburban housewife broadcasts to the new hairdresser all the family gossip,
while the cutter chews on her gum with a wry smile and stares at the clock.

Punters spill their guts on Oprah TV and inform the whole damn nation of all their ugly sins.
They strip themselves butt-naked (not literally) on Dr Phil show,
and get crucified by the know-all quack.
Blah Blah.

Do these poor suckers ever get paid for these 'true' confessions.
Or is it just plain boldness ?
Maybe a free plane trip, a hotel room for the night and a moment of fleeting fame,
is all they really want ?