Jodie Foster and Clint Eastwood certainly know how to steal a show.

Despite weeks of preparation and hours of programming, the most memorable event from last summer’s Republican convention was Clint Eastwood’s monologue to a chair. Sunday night, in a sea of celebrities, Jodie Foster’s acceptance speech of a career-achievement award blew the Twitter circuits and became the takeaway from the Golden Globes Awards, one of the most watched television programs left in our fragmented media world.

I did not see Ms. Foster make her remarks; the consensus I have read is that she was bizarre in style and solipsistic in content. But I did read a transcript of them, and I found myself in sympathy with them.

As I read it, Ms. Foster said something like this (and these are certainly not direct quotes, but rather my liberal interpretation of her meaning): “I have been making movies for 47 years. My life has been a struggle to keep some part of me private against people who would stalk me and even use their fantasy of me as a sick inspiration to commit a horrible crime. I have made it because I held on to some part of me that remained real and was nurtured by long-standing friendships. Part of my privacy zone extended to my sexual orientation, and my vagueness and slowness to embrace publicly that part of me caused some angst. Sorry, I'm not sorry.”

Good for you, Jodie Foster. It may be a small victory, but your insistence on maintaining some privacy is a victory nonetheless. If we want to see where the total surrender of privacy ends up, take a look at Lindsey Lohan. Today’s culture titillates, distracts and gratifies, instantly and fleetingly. But it doesn’t do much to inform, educate or ground us.  It's easy to give in to it.

Sugar and fat taste good; swallowing is less work than chewing; losing yourself in someone else's troubles is more fun than looking at your own. It’s hard to resist; that's why I salute Ms. Foster for doing so.