Indulgence of the self is truly a wonderful thing. There are so many things in this world that we enjoy, but somehow have been shamed into feeling guilty about. People love to look down on us for our guilty pleasures. In a world where we are constantly looking to get the edge on anyone, friend, family, foe, side-show freak, (whoa, sorry, so un "P.C." of me, I meant, "Carnival Attraction-American") we are often comparing our indulgences to others so we can say that we are "at least not like them". "Look at that guy, all he eats is Tater Tots, I know I eat french fries, I'm just saying..all he EATS, is Tater Tots".
Perhaps the guiltiest pleasure we enjoy is television. It's not the all-encompassing family shared event it once was, but it's still a place where we can mindlessly enjoy completely empty, value-less entertainment. T.V. has always been an American wasteland. As early as the late 1940s, social critics were groaning over the antics of Milton Berle, Professional Wrestling, and "Amos and Andy". (Of whom, some liberal elites accused of being racist). The guiltiest pleasure on television today has to be the reality shows. It used to be that you needed a talent to get on television, now all you need to have is a willingness to publicly humiliate yourself while sacrificing your pride and sense of shame.
"Reality television" can probably trace its roots back to the days of that old TV classic, "Let's Make a Deal". On that show, contestants would dress like buffoons, and then try to trade in some crap that they had on them in exchange for what was hopefully a better prize such as a waffle iron, or a blender. Contestants could keep trading up for what was behind "Door Number one", "Door Number Two", or "Door Number Three". Two of the "Doors" would have a good gift like Living Room Furniture or a new Car. One of the "Doors" would have a "Booby-Prize" such as a Donkey or 500 boxes of Rice-a-Roni. (The SanFrancisco Treat) However, to get picked by the host (anyone, anyone, that's right...Monte Hall!!) you had to dress up in a buffoon like costume. What would you do for new living room furniture? Well, some Americans would dress up like a baby with a fake pig-nose.
Soap Operas are another type of guilty pleasure that people love, but don't like to hone up to. Nobody proudly announces that they can't hang out, after all, "The Days of Our Lives" is on. I don't get what the hang-up is over Soap Operas? Other than the bad acting, the cheap looking sets, the implausible plot-lines, or the fact that you can leave a Soap Opera for 20 years, come back, and literally nothing has changed, they seem like a nice little diversion.
There are always those people though who claim not to watch TV. It's their particular edge that they are seeking to impose over you. "Television...oh goodness no, neither my kids nor I ever watch the "boob-tube". They say it as though they believe the Nobel Committee is going to come bursting through the door like the "Kool-aid guy" and shower them with accolades. Not only do I love television, I love watching the same show or movie I've seen dozens of time, over and over again. My brother David and I in the late '70s relished 6-730pm on weekdays. First on WPIX or "PIX" to us hardcore viewers, we would watch the original "Star Trek", (In Technicolor) and then we'd watch the "Odd Couple". My father would come home, having dragged his ass off the LIRR (Long Island Railroad), tie askew, suit-coat off, walk into the den, only to see his two sloth-like "go-getters" lying like puddles of pudding on the couches engrossed in our favorite shows that we had seen literally hundreds of times. My father would walk into the den and say as only he could, "I can't believe your watching this dreck". (Which is yiddish for shit) My brother and I would then try to explain the social relevance of "Star Trek", how it discussed racism and the Vietnam War. At which point he would then look at us and give the "Bronx Cheer".
There are really countless amounts of Guilty Pleasures that we all partake in. Looking at Gossip Magazines in the checkout line at the Supermarket is one of my favorites. The issue I always enjoy the most is the one where they proclaim to the world who has the worst beach bodies. My wife always feels bad for the "Cellulite Celebrities", but it just makes me feel better about myself. In a moment of weakness, I might have put back the Yodels, but once I see that I'm actually in better shape than say, Kirstie Alley, I can rip off my shirt and start pounding poundcake.
My own particular favorite among Guilty Pleasures, is wasting "the Beautiful Day". There is something about sunshine that seems to enliven women, but is largely lost on yours truly. "Look at the sunshine, doesn't that sunshine feel good?, I just want to enjoy that beautiful sunshine, why aren't you out in the sunshine? How can you be inside on such a beautiful day....with all of that sunshine"??? Okay, I get it. The sun is out. And it's very nice. But you can take that sunshine, and stick it where the sun DOESN'T shine. All a sunny day does is raise expectations. You're expected to do something, or accomplish some goal. What's the big deal? There's always another nice day eventually. There's nothing better than waking up and seeing it rain, you just know that people will be expecting very little of you. That's my sweet spot. Low expectations. Right now, I'm trying to justify watching football on Sunday, when every Sunday in September so far has been 78, sunny and no humidity. The 1-3 Jets aren't making my case any easier.
For a lot of people though, (at least men) I'm guessing that their Guiltiest Pleasure is pornography. It's the one indulgence that's hard to talk to other people about, and yet "porn" is a multi-billion dollar industry, so somebody must be enjoying it. I would talk more about this, but we just ordered the Spice Channel, "Shaving Ryan's Privates" isn't going to watch itself.
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