My Guilty Pleasure…Maybe

I’ve got to admit, Carly Rae Jepsen’s song Call Me Maybe is very enjoyable. It makes me want to ovulate and write Mr. John Beckinsale everywhere inside a notebook. I’m going to shave with a steak knife to feel like a man again.

I’ve got to admit, Carly Rae Jepsen’s song “Call Me Maybe” is very enjoyable.  It makes me want to ovulate and write “Mr. John Beckinsale” everywhere inside a notebook.  I’m going to shave with a steak knife to feel like a man again.

How can you not like this song?  I once read of a psychological study where participants were given a list of movies to watch.  The list of movies consisted of some light stories (e.g. something fun like “The Avengers”) and some heavy stories (e.g. a little “Schindler’s List”).  Nearly all of the participants started with the light movies and held off on the heavy stuff until the end of the study.  People prefer to start with the things that are easy.  It’s a lot less of a commitment to sit through anything that is certainly going to be easier to digest.

The amount of satisfaction a person gets from enjoying deeply emotional and thought-provoking art could be much greater than breezing through something bubblegum pop.  I totally go d-bag hipster for some Heart of Darkness.  Art can demand that you open up, dig deep, and journey your way up to a new perspective.

But most of the time, I’m honestly not in the mood for a life changing.  I want orange soda, not whiskey.  Did I ask you to make me cry?  Not today Clapton.  Jerk.

My previous guilty pleasure was Katy Perry’s “Firework.”  She doesn’t have a voice I particularly care for…but she’s got boobies.  Seriously, the song is simply fun.  No one pontificates about the lyrics or the notes that are played.  The only thing that demands to be appreciated is the sight of fireworks igniting out of Katy Perry’s boobage.  I can sit through that.

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