Keaton's Choice

Loving Diane Keaton is easy.  Some people find loving her Golden Globes Cecil B. DeMille acceptance speech for longtime friend and ex, Woody Allen, not so easy. If I were British, I’d say “Bollocks.” But I’m me, so I’ll say, “You’re fucking stupid.”

Mia and Ronan Farrow had some nasty things to say about Woody, the alleged sex abuser of their family member, via Twitter. The action is so passive aggressive, so high school, so narcissistic. “Look at me! Wait! Don’t forget what I said! Wait! I’m right here! Can you hear me? Can you see me? Me! Me! What I said!”

No one asked.

And why do intelligent people communicate on the child’s playground that is Twitter? Throwing barbs on the networking site is like bullying at recess, but from the far edge of the field so you don’t get hit back. It’s a pussy move and people who don’t get that are lost in the badlands of the digital age. How embarrassing. Sorry, people. Good luck stepping out of that quicksand.

“If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

When Diane sang at the end of her tribute to Woody, she gave him a big fat slice of sugar pie—which the infamously self-loathing artist probably never saw coming—while saying at the same time, “It’s none of my business what happened or didn’t happen with Mia's daughter. We have been friends for 45 years and I adore him. That’s my business.”

And I applaud her. Because she has integrity and she’s no idiot, and everyone knows it.

Right after her song, a dear friend texted me, “Beautiful! She is a delicious buffet of a woman! Love her!”

Amen.