Lift me up and take me back

There's a music video from the late '80's of which I am so fond that it has been sublimated into that hallowed hall of guilty pleasures. There's nothing particularly guilt-inducing about it, not inherently, anyway. It's not trashy or anything like that. If anything it errs on the side of, you know, Adult Contemporary, which is what VH-1 used to skew back when this video was on constant rotation, and while that was guilt-inducing enough for me to keep mum about it during the Years of Black Eyeliner and Steel-Toed Docs, it's not been much of a worry since then.

No, the reason it's a guilty pleasure is simply because I am so fond of it. I love it almost irrationally, not unlike the way I loved James Hetfield for a few years -- only, obviously, that belabored and unfortunate phenomenon actually was both guilt-inducing and trashy. I love it, love it, love it. I love its drama and its banality and its costumes -- oh, its costumes! -- and of course its makeup and, of course of course, its John Malkovich.

But tonight, dear readers, tonight I have discovered another reason to love this music video. This very night, it has been revealed to me through texts found on a complicated system of "tubes," as Al Gore once explained it, that Hugh Laurie was in this video. So I, real quick-like, typed in www.youtube.com and found the video and oh! my goodness, there he is, playing JM's rival! Stupendous! Staggering! Swoony goodness. (He's much more appealing without all that poncy frippery, incidentally. Just my opinion, people.)

Perhaps another night I will wax poetic about my other guilty pleasure, House M.D.. But probably not, as I fear no one will come back after having endured this ridiculous bit of fluff passing for a post tonight. For tonight, let me simply leave you with a wonderful treat.

Enjoy.