It can be hard to open up about things, especially to the world. Writing a book about stuff I have been making jokes about for so many years is a trip. Also, there is the fun guilt that occurs the moment you hit publish, you know, right after you have written, rewritten, deleted, and undelete the darn thing. The trouble begins with balancing the need to expel the garbage buried inside and worrying about how it affects the people who created this mess in the first place. Oh, I have days. I read somewhere that honesty, although tough to say or hear, is not a family betrayal.