Since the days of my youth I have taken pleasure in subjecting myself to that which the critics of this world have deemed "bad". Be it film, novellas (vellum?), or even the poorly written headlines that cycle through my phone's news widget, medium be damned, my brain seeks after and imbibes upon the works of the least skilled children of the great flying spaghetti monster in the sky. Praise his name. Like a squalid hog I return again and again to the disease ridden sty that is netflix instant play and wallow in its murky depths.
Some might postulate that I labor under a delusion that the awful things of which I partake have some sort of redeeming value. I am, however, much like the trusted Priest forcing himself upon a succulent young altar boy, fully aware of the sin that I commit. While watching 1992's horror film "Candyman" for example, I didn't just strap in, uncontrollably swept up in the rollercoaster ride of terror that I'm sure the writer thought he was offering up, instead, I asked questions... I questioned him to the bone. "Why", I asked, "Why, Clive Barker, is the antagonist in your movie called "Candyman"?", "Is it because he was stung by bees?", "Did their honey pool inside of him, crystalizing around his bones and forming some sort of delicious horehound?", "Is it not strange to you Clive, that despite the title of your movie not a single piece of candy is devoured or offered to anyone, by any man?". Unfortunately for me this dialogue took place only within my mind, and as such my questions went unanswered.
My joy in the sub-par owes very little to the efforts of the original creators and rather more to the ability of my own brain to take what would be (if we were currently inside of Wonka's chocolate factory) deemed, by squirrels, to be a bad nut, and turn it into something delicious. Perhaps crumbled into bits and sprinkled on my ice cream... or used as a base ingredient in some sort of nutty sauce. In hearing or reading the awful things perpetuated upon me by the writers guild, I twist them, using them as instruments of my own pleasure. Trust me when I say that I pleasure myself better than anyone else ever could. The mirth afforded me by watching a comedic film lasts perhaps a few months. That which is gained by comedifying everything around me will, I hope, last a lifetime.
Do you too revel in awful, no good, very bad entertainment? Share your reasoning in a comment below, or even just your thoughts on my humble first attempt at blogging.
I feel, that perhaps you are the mop for a janitor most foul. You absorb the filth, the child's bile spewn upon the tile floor, and hidden under a dink fountain. You do your job, obey your janitor, and it is so painful that you have to take drugs but you en-joy-eet! some one, a man, for no woman could endure so long, must absorb this filth, oh glorious filth, and embrace its murk. For some day, thou shalt wring thine self out. The chemicals thou shalt then contain will be so foreign, addictive, and sludge-like that even Jesus himself shall cry "get this man a pay check."
ReplyDeleteThat's me... always digging deep under the dink fountain.
ReplyDeleteMovies like Transmorphers and Raptor Island need people like us.
ReplyDeleteI too used to enjoy the occasional bad entertainment, however, now that all spare time in my life is devoted to the raising of another human being, I have found myself very selective with what I do watch. I have become, if you will, a cinema snob. When the bad entertainment does creep back into my life I do openly mock it, although not in my head like you, but outloud. Kind of like Mystery Science Theater...did you ever watch that? Or do you think I'm such a huge nerd now?
ReplyDeleteP.S. I so hope you don't mind that I commented on your blog!
I had no idea you were nerdy enough to have ever watched mystery science theater April, but knowing that you have, I feel closer to you than ever before (as if that is even possible! ha ha ha) Please feel free to read and comment on my blog to your hearts content :)
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