Some people get very offended when you write about them. I guess the reasons vary. I know they feel hurt when they don’t see their own images of themselves reflected back (I get that); I guess they feel territorial about their experience (that makes sense). Maybe they feel made fun of. (One time I wrote about how the director Paul Verhoeven had the first three buttons of his shirt undone while I was interviewing him on the set of “Starship Troopers,” and his publicist called me and asked me to apologize.) Sometimes they think your story is incorrect—not at all how they remember it. But what is memory but a fiction created by the person who’s remembering? What is life but a dream created by the dreamer? Anyway, I apologize for offending anyone. I will add your names to my list of people I never mention.
So folkaramas, just in case you thought this blog was “true,” it’s just Deitch, the no one behind the non-curtain, creating something out of nothing for no reason. I try to tell you when I’m lying, but truth, as I implied above, is a pretty deep and slippery subject, and is neither reflected in facts alone, nor in what crosses our minds. If this makes you mad, and you’re policing my blog (which, by the way, is not fact-checked, and will not be fact-checked) for possible offenses rather than just enjoying it, then you might want to consider going away—this really is a no-cop zone, and, more important, why upset yourself?