My fondness for certain '70s pop that some might call schlock? Again, I feel no guilt. I like Seals & Crofts. Yeah, some of their hits were way saccharine, but so what? A number of their album cuts were actually quite beautiful, and the session players on their LPs were top-notch. (Not long ago, I was surprised as hell when radio surfing to find that a popular hip-hop song of recent vintage was built around a sample of the bass hook from an obscure S&C album track. There was no mistaking it, and I'm probably the only person to notice.) Anyway, no guilt trip there.
But when I heard the phrase "guilty pleasure" a couple of times recently, I realized I do have a couple. Two, actually.
--White Castle hamburgers. There simply is no defending these things. They bear only the slightest resemblance to the substance we call "food." The buns make Wonder bread look like the finest French croissant. The meat--is it meat? I'm not sure--is a pale little gray slab. The onions are overwhelming. The whole thing is sort of ... well, damp is the best way I can describe it. And yet ... and yet ... once every three months or so I HAVE to go to White Castle. I'm drawn to it like a certain world leader is drawn to a bottle of scotch when his poll numbers are down.
--America's Next Top Model. I hate reality shows. Really, I do. But I've somehow gotten sucked into this weekly parade of the beautiful leading the stupid. It has nothing to recommend about it. I can actually feel my brain cells dying as I watch. But every Wednesday night at 8, there I am in front of the TV, guilty as charged.
So, I've confessed. How about you? What do you really feel guilty about? Please no "I love disco"-type admissions--that's just too easy.
White Castle hamburgers
America's Next Top ModelWhoops, sorry--that's backward.
6 comments:
Years ago, in my freer days, a couple of friends and I wound up at a White Castle in Huntington at 1:00 or 2:00 in the morning. It was crowded and only 1 booth was open. We sat down, and there on the wall was a cheeseburger.
Yes, on the wall, stuck fast, cheese-first, right at eye level, looking not in the least dislodgeable.
I do not recall deriving any pleasure, guilty or otherwise, from the incident.
I have never eaten at a White Castle. I too hate reality shows, but I do occasionally watch Wife Swap or Trading Spouses. I can't say it's particularly pleasurable, but it is similar to watching a train wreck. Now's that's a guilty pleasure.
I hate reality shows as well, but I cannot resist ANTM either. I do miss the insanity of Janice Dickinson. I just want Miss Jay to bitch-slap the far-too-nice Twiggy.
Oh, yeah--Janice added a wonderful note of complete insanity. How does she walk down the street without the men in white coats tackling her?
Twiggy is dull.
Hey, trinamick, the first one's free...
Oops.
Post a Comment