|
I was thinking today, as I was listening to a collection of early Statler Brothers hits, that nostalgia is a lot like pornography.
Wait! Lemme ’splain.
Okay, for those of you who are still here, here goes. I listen to those old songs about the good old days when life was simple and easy, and I experience emotions that I’m not entitled to. I have feelings that are based on, if not exactly a lie, then at least a false reality. Heck, they’re not even my memories. They’re someone else’s rose-colored vision of a past that never was.
That doesn’t mean the feelings aren’t real. It’s just that they’re not earned. I didn’t put anything into them. Instead, I sat back and listened and let the sentimentality wash over me and choke me up, and I sob and sigh just as if I had really lived through World War II with nothing but a silver medal to remind me of...
Well, you get the point. It’s real emotion, though, no matter where it comes from.
Just like porn. I don’t think I have to go into details, other than to say that I don’t see anything wrong with it, in its place. It’s a passive way to fill a need, but as long as it doesn’t hurt anybody, I say let the good times roll.
I mean, those old songs don’t do any harm, right? |
