At the least speck of it, and we “click” to take a peek someone. Like savage animals we feed on the dead carcass of someone‘s sorted past, smacking our lips at the taste of pain, misfortune, or humiliation. Why can’t we mind our own business? Is this behavior an opportunity for us to gain proof that our own lives are not as bad as it could be? Does this allow us to feel superior in some way? Do we get some sort of sick pleasure out of other people’s problems, or are we relieved to hear that we are not alone? One amazing aspect of our need to feed on gossip is that the story does not even have to be true-- we don’t care. And we don’t care if it’s about the Jolie-Pitts, or the woman next door (who we knew was cheating on her husband, and we weren’t the least bit surprised when the grits finally hit the pan). We support it any which way we can-- on the web, rag mags, or the office grapevine. We crave it, and savor it’s taste whenever we find it. How else could Jerry Springer, Maury Povich, and Dr. Phil stay in business? And the Mmmm--- dirt taste so good.

ON THE OTHER HAND: What makes us want to tell our business? Where doe Jerry Springer and Dr. Phil find all these people? Why do we spill our guts about private matter in chat rooms and on blog sites? How does this help? Do we feel less vulnerable posting or deepest secrets on a medium that can be accessed all around the world-- even from the Space Shuttle? What makes us think someone else cares? Do we even care if anybody cares, or is it just some time of bowel movement that purges our souls?