Today's prompt was simple to understand.
Describe 5 guilty pleasures.
to understand, perhaps. Yet not so easy to execute. For my usual
position is that if it gives one pleasure, one shouldn't be guilty about
it. Yes, some sordid types do take pleasure from criminal acts, and my
view would not apply in such cases. But by and large I am pretty close
to the Wiccan edict of "If it harms none..."
The very concept of
the guilty pleasure seems to me to be rooted in peer pressure. The
notion of enjoying that which may not be deemed cool or admirable by
those by whom we are surrounded in society. And I have never been one to
sacrifice my preferences, tastes and tendencies at the altar of social
popularity and acceptence.
In the spirit of the prompt, however,
I will list five pleasures that, while not eliciting straight up guilt
in me, probably would not be enjoyed by the more discerning or wise
elements of my consciousness. Maybe. (Give me a break here, I am trying
to shoe horn a pretty free spirit into these confines for the sake of
In no special order:
is shit, let's face it. A mild sugary acid with zero nutrional value.
It is fattening, dehydrating (so they tell me), eats away at teeth and is particularly bad for
someone like me who has had to deal with two specific medical conditions in
the past. (Kidney issues and stomach ulcers.)
Yet if it were not
for its unhealthy nature, I would have soda all the time. Coke in
particular. (I used to have soda all the time...which is why I think the
above mentioned issues occurred. Well, one of the reasons. Maybe.) If
someone told me today that ice cold cola had no deleterious effects, I'd
go out at by a 48 pack tonight.
The bubbles. The taste. The thirst quenching refreshment that would seem to fly in the face of biology. There are
times when only a soda will do for me. Times even when only a Coke
specifically will do it. (I want to hear nothing about them all tasting
the same. They don't. Period.
And somehow, it makes me feel better when I am fluish. I was told once it was the caffine. I don't know. I just know it works.
2. The movie Strange Brew
Despite borrowing certain elements from Hamlet
(yes, that one), this movie about the misadventures of the Mackenzie
Brothers, two idiot Canadian stereotypes based on characters that originated
on SCTV is not what one would call high brow comedy. While it does have a
few clever references during its occasional moments of satire, it is
mostly a goofy farce revolving around misunderstandings, over the top
theatrics, and beer. Lots of beer. It gives beer drinkers, Hamlet, and
most certainly Canada a bit of bad name. It is Three's Company with a
bit of accuman. It's too adult to be a cartoon, but not by much.
It elevated being inane and clueless into an art form. Everything that
in theory Adam Sandler tries to do in all of his movies today, and I
hate his movies.
Yet Strange Brew is one of my
favorites anyway. Ever since my mother, in an ill advised moment picked
it up at the video store for me to watch as a child, based mostly on the cover
art. I am sure she didn't know what she was getting into, though she
never objected thereafter.
I laugh at this movie even after all
of these years. They say it takes more talent to play stupid than to
play anything else as an actor. That being the case, Rock Moranis and
Dave Thomas should have been Oscar contenders for this one.
3. Fantasy Football
I type this I am only hours away from the final game of this, my second
fantasy football regular season. I will once again, odds are, end with a losing
record. And be pissed about it. Just as I have gotten pissed, royally
pissed several times during my lackluster season this year, and royally
pissed during my disappointing season last year. Luck is always against me in
this game. Players that are sure things break a thumb on the bus, and
can't play. People I put on the bench have the game of their careers.
Those players on my oppoonant's team that have never done a thing suddenly
become the biggest thing in the NFL, and beat me in the process. In the final two minutes of the week.
guessing. Indecision. Consistently bad, dumb luck. What ifs. And all of
the frustration that goes with those things. There is a reason they
call it "football bingo", as 60% of it is total chance, and getting pissed
or depressed about it is almost as bad as cussing out a slot machine.
I play. Despite threats to not do so again, I play. I am not as intense
as I used to be, usually, but when a victory is close I still get antsy
and excited. Especially when the player I need to excel appears on TV,
and I can watch him live, upping my point totals towards an all too
infrequent victory for me.
And the prize is nothing. I am in a
free league. No money changes hands. It is not very temperate of me to
delve so head long into such a luck based activity, knowing how unlucky I
continue to be, just for bragging rights. In fact, it may be foolish. But I do it and probably
will next year as well.
4. Power Ballads
are good and some are lousy. Like anything else. But my musically and
artistically inclined aquaintances have for years pointed out that power
ballads, like much pop music, follows some kind of formula of math,
notes, and tempo, and hence all of them are, without my realizing it,
exact replicas of one another.
"Play something at 3/4 time,
start in an A or a G, include are high reverb guitar solo in the bridge,
and end with a crescendo. People eat it up every time."
that's all Greek to me. (I had to make up the terms to prove my point,
don't correct them please.) While I am not willing to concede that all
power ballads are the result of a predictable formula moreso than other
music, and while I am also not willing to accept the idea that in order
to be good a song must always do something that nobody else has ever
done, I will acknowledge similar elements among some of my
favorites. That is what I am supposed to be guilty over, I guess. That
it's too easy, or caters to the masses. Or something.
But slow dance to Can't Fight This Feeling
with someone you find at least somewhat attractive and see if you don't
fall in love for a minute. Or at least in bed for a minute.
It's an antiquated, superficial, masochinistic remnant of a less informed
past that appeals, in theory, to the more reptilian, less evolved parts
of our brains. Not to mention the fact that much of it makes me sneeze.
Perfume is like the soda of hygiene, having exactly zero to do with the person wearing it. Totally unnatural.
there are certain fragrances that I find appealling when worn by a
woman. In some ways certain personalities suit certain fragrances more
than others, and when the correct combinations show up, they will
increase the attractiveness of the woman.
I'll never fall in
love with a woman over perfume. But I could see myself choosing to sit a
bit closer to her at a party because of it, and who knows what from
there. (Bearing in mind I am still an introvert, and not going to let
perfume trump my hate of small talk.)
And of course, I myself use cologne at times, completing the guilt factor.
So there are some pleasures over which many would feel guilty but I do not. What are yours?