Forgive me, father, for I have sinned,
Find me guilty when true guilt is from within.
A couple of months ago, during a notably boring day at work, I created a companion site to The Agitation of the Mind. A dark side. A twisted side. The blogosphere equivalent of the B-side.
You don't want to admit that you listened to it, let alone that you liked it, that you tapped your foot to it.
And maybe - to reduce my blogging efforts to a Russ Conway analogy - that's why I did nothing with Guilty Pleasures (thusly did I christen this blog's bastard sibling): I saw from the outset that Guilty Pleasures would forever be the 'Pixilated Penguin' to The Agitation of the Mind's 'Side Saddle'.
But I started The Agitation of the Mind in order to write about cinema - to celebrate it. The only criteria was that it inspired a reaction in me.
But what about bad reactions? Guilty reactions? Cold shower and two dozen strokes of the birch kind of reactions? Those would require another blog. A blog that didn't mind adding the works of Jess Franco and Jean Rollin to the Amazon Rentals list. A blog that was completely unabashed in admitting that it's seen at least two Lindsay Lohan films on the big screen.
A blog that, sometimes, wants a little sapphic vampirism, exhibitionism, explotiation and downright bad taste, if for no other reason than to clear the palate between 'proper' films.
Thus it is that I invite you to either:
Hit this link and check out my less-than-cerebral musings on 'Ma Mere';
Completely ignore this post, cling on to such tenuous misconceptions as you have that I am a worthy film critic, and wait for the next article.