That’s okay though, because you know who will be on board with my newfound Nickelback love? Awesome UI-Approved, Must-See CMJ Marathon Artist Juliana Hatfield! Check it out. Nickelback’s her guilty pleasure!

In fact, any poppy Euro house is totally my guilty pleasure. I grew up in Chicago, a city with more Polish people than anywhere except Warsaw. They love this stuff. Because of this experience I know some of the more popular DJs of Euro house and I can correctly order a Żywiec beer.

My second guilty pleasure is the Bee Gees. I love the early, non-disco Bee Gees specifically. And if you play some of those songs to people they think you are playing an obscure Beatles song. They are awesome, and their hairy, hairy chests are just a bonus.

I am not particularly guilty about either of these, though they are somewhat embarrassing. There are two I feel kind of guilty about.

I kind of like Prussian Blue? They’re a white supremecist folk duo. Who are children. In case this needs pointing out, I am not a white supremecist in any way. But I sing along with their catchy tunes and then get creeped out.

Finally, I like Toby Keith.  His lyrics are really awesome. They’re intentionally very funny and smart. Funny lyrics are my soft spot. That’s right, I called Toby Keith smart. Also, ballsy. I mean, when the Dixie Chicks criticized President Bush (and Toby Keith), their career tanked for a bit. But Toby Keith announced he is pro-Obama recently anyway, and there hasn’t been much backlash. This is making me feel a bit better about liking Toby Keith. I mean he’s one of the few democrats who is wearing flags and going overboard on patriotic lyrics, so I have to like that.

The first three are easy enough to keep a secret, but if I drink enough, and there’s a jukebox, I will be playing some Toby Keith. And maybe Big ‘n’ Rich. And singing along. Loudly.

What I am not okay with is PJPJ implying that people who don’t agree with them are stupid.

It’s great to show some respect for musicians who “do the right thing” (whatever your definition of that is), but their personal and professional respectability has little to do with how awesome their jams might be. Do I support R. Kelly’s actions as a person? No. God, no. But will I sell my first born to see the next episodes in his hip-hopera “Trapped in the Closet.” In the words of Gov. Palin, “You betcha!”

As horrifying as rape allegations against an indie musician might be, I am still going to sing “Trucker’s Atlas” at the top of my lungs whenever it comes on in my proximity. That doesn’t make me dumb, it makes my appreciation of music devoid of interest in the politics of the people who create the music.

For many people, their personal and economic politics goes into their musical choices. But for the majority of people, it has no bearing on what music sounds good and what music sounds bad. I may respect Yoko Ono as an artist, but I will never put her albums on my record player during a party. Listening to what aesthetically pleases you isn’t stupid. And this is why I love Phil’s (of Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin) confession of his love for Contemporary Christian Music.

The telling thing about this is that even though Phil KNEW he liked this music, and he knew it was better than indie music that was popular, he couldn’t tell people, just because of its cheesy niche popularity. And that kind of judging an album by its marketing and politics and not by the aesthetic awesomeness of the music, is what I disagree with.

Lucky for me, I’m immune to Phil Collins’ irresistible pop sensibilities (except of course for “You Can’t Hurry Love, which no human can resist). However, last night while drinking heavily at Ski Bar in Bay Ridge while playing darts (always a good idea, by the way), my roommate and I discovered that we both shared the same, borderline masculine guilty pleasure – mother fucking Hall and Oates! We were two grown men in the middle of a bar in Brooklyn literally fighting over which song from The Very Best of Hall and Oates to play. My vote was for I Can’t Go For That (No Can Do), his pick was Private Eyes. You know who won out in the end? BOTH OF US, after we realized you get two mother fucking plays for one mother fucking dollar, bitch!

Oh man, I’m probably going to get reamed for admitting this, but all we wanted to do when we got home was listen to more H&O and fantasize about growing a mustache like John Oates. Isn’t that thing fucking gorgeous? Little known fact: John Oates’ mustache actually came in 4th place at the 1984 Miss Georgia pageant. He screwed up the question and answer section.

Shark Thought Of The Day

I hope that if the world ever ends, it goes like this: All the panda bears in the world unite and set off a bunch of nuclear weapons, so just before the mushroom cloud reaches us, we can all turn to the animal rights people and give them a nice, slow, scornful clap.