Tempus Fugit as the Roman poet, Virgil, said. Summer's end approaches with a deluge of diversions. Among the many things I have put off as I tread water against the flood of activity preceding Labor Day weekend is my blog. I haven't posted since mid-July to the consternation, chagrin, and probable relief, of my readers. I've jotted down several ideas, but haven't followed through on them, until now.
Soap operas began on the radio in the 1930s. The genre flourished on television. For over half a century, I avoided the mindless, sensational, drivel that spewed forth from these serials. By the year 2000, soaps began to decline in popularity and now less than a handful remain on air.
In true Billings tradition, I snubbed this form of "entertainment" during its popular period, but have embraced it now that it's no longer fashionable. She who shall not be named got me hooked on Days of Our Lives. I get home at night craving this digitally recorded drug like a junkie looking for that next fix.
Will Chad find out that Abigail's baby is his, not Ben's? Will Teresa's wicked machinations get her into Brady's life? Will Clyde succeed in taking over Salem's organized crime? The tension titillates.
I am so into this that I'm able to predict the peculiar permutations of the writers. I knew that JJ would sleep with his girlfriend's mother. I knew that Abbie was pregnant episodes before it was revealed. At the height of the hatred between Hope and Adian, I knew they would fall in love.
Gilbert & Sullivan operettas are also on my list of guilty pleasures. Of course there are the big three: H.M.S. Pinafore, The Pirates of Penzance and the Mikado. Less popular ones like The Gondoliers and The Yeoman of the Guard also give me enjoyment. I have been known to break into a verse or two. "But I'm still called buttercup, poor little buttercup, sweet little buttercup I." Mostly to the dismay of those around me.
Closely associated is my love of musical theater. My favorite is Guys & Dolls. It has Damon Runyon characters, loud suits and crap games. What's not to love? The movie version was horribly miscast - Marlon Brando, really Marlon Brando. Sinatra wanted the role of Sky Masterson. But that went to Marlon and he played Nathan Detroit. Throughout the film Frank referred to Brando as Mr. Mumbles. However it does have Stubby Kaye as Nicely Nicely singing my favorite number Fugue for Tinhorns. Listen to it through the link below.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RthEYvh6aMM
There's nothing like a live performance, but whenever a Broadway musical's movie version shows up on the tube, chances are I will watch it.
Dave Grohl said the entire guilty pleasure thing is BS. He blames in on residual punk rock guilt. I think he is not entirely correct. I predate the guilty pleasure to the beatnik era long before the term punk. This or that isn't cool, so you can't like it. While I agree we should like what we like, I still feel pangs of guilt and embarrassment about these pleasures. But not enough to stop me from breaking into a few lines of I Am A Very Model of A Modern Major General when the muse hits me. As ever - BB
“I adore simple pleasures. They are the last refuge of the complex.” Oscar Wilde
