Guilty pleasures

Perusing my Facebook feed earlier this week, I found a post from my friend Jeff in which he disclosed several movies as “guilty pleasures”. And it caused me to immediately reply that there was nothing wrong whatsoever with guilty pleasures. Which got me to thinking (as some things do, of course). And it did not take long for the question to cross my mind: Why feel guilty about such things, anyhow?

(And as an aside, dear reader, please note that I am not talking about things such as kiddie porn or snuff video here.   Frankly, if you feel anything pleasurable about such sewage – whether guilty or not – I would ask you to get the hell off this page and find somebody who can help you. And I mean now. Please.)

No…I am talking about far less sinister stuff than that. And, although Jeff was referring to movies, my own long list of guilty pleasures land for the most part within the realm of music. There are any number of tunes that I find far more listenable than (to use an obvious example) “Stairway to Heaven”, which I have never been able to tolerate, even when it first came out. And here is the thing:

A lot of the songs that I truly enjoy listening to…suck. Like a Kirby powered with a Corvette engine. Like a black hole attacking some innocent star. I mean “whoosh”, raised to the gazillionth power. On any number of family trips, when I am driving with my iPod playing through the car stereo, I can read their minds as they listen to my shuffle: “If there wasn’t a chance we could wind up in the ditch or worse, I would rip that damn thing out right now!” Except, of course, for daughter Jessica, who cleverly positions herself in the shotgun seat, the better for her to reach the “forward” button when the song in play fails to meet her exacting standards.

But I digress. And the main point I am trying to make within this screed is: When I listen to songs such as these, I feel no guilt whatsoever. There are songs on my shuffle that might trigger a sweet memory from long ago. Or songs that make me want to move my feet or my hiney, depending. (Disturbing, I realize…but hey, this is my blog.) Or, perhaps, it is a song that sings to my heart in a way that only I might understand.  And I realize that some of these songs sound as though they may have been written or performed by our cats after a night of too much catnip. Frankly, I really don’t care. These are songs that move me in one way or another, and to deny them would be to deny a part of me.

And I hope that each and every one of you have your own songs that you can say the same thing about. Because, you see, I would much rather live in a world of individuals than one of clones.

Here is one that you may well think sucks. So be it; this one is on my player and it ain’t coming off. This is a single from early 1971 that got a bit of airplay and went nowhere (a theme that will pop up from time to time on this site). Anyhow…if you think it sucks, fear not…I love you no less for your own taste in music. And if I have turned you on to a little something that you might like…well…you are welcome…and welcome to the black hole.


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