I occasionally read a... newspaper article where a man... owns up to the “guilty pleasures” on his iPod... The structure of [his] argument:
- I, the author, am an extraordinarily intelligent and cool person;
- But I do listen to music that is considered to be shit;
- However, this music (pick one):
- is actually good, and you, dear reader, are too much of a snob too enjoy it; or
- is not actually good, but despite my impeccable taste I deign to listen to it for amusement.
- In either case I am awesome.
Over and over I read myself into a froth, sketching a mental picture of the essayist as a scruffy fucksimper who suffers from chronic index-finger-swelling brought on by speed-dialing through all the music he shat onto his 500G jizz-hued iPod. After he gmails his guilty-pleasure opus to his editbot, who will rewrite it into a charticle...
Let that be known as the first good writing to have appeared on a weblog in 2007.
And, as I elected myself judge and jury on that ruling, I will now go and listen to I'm Bringin' Sexy Back 17 times in a row and resist finding it catchy.
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