Guilty Pleasure Delight

Okay, so I've been sort of lax with this whole desert island gem/guilty pleasure posting thing that I'm sure all four of you were anxiously waiting to read each day. I apologize. It's entirely my fault and there's really nothing I can say. But, suffice it to say, I'm going to try and do better. Consider this post a step toward redemption.

Anyway, I'm going to shift things a little bit here, just because I can, and share a bit of a guilty pleasure that I've partaken of ever since I was a wee little lad. For the unaware, although I'm pretty sure that those who may stumble upon this are already aware, I grew up in the South. On top of that, I grew up in a family that was really proud it was from the South. My folks were and are die-hard civil war buffs who can expound upon just about every battle, every general, and every nook and cranny that holds the remotest possible interest from that hallowed time. We were southern cooking folk, indulging in bacon, fried chicken, and the like as a holy ritual. We were Hee Haw and Dukes of Hazzard folk, and to tell the truth, I still long to take a ride in the General Lee. And to top it all off, we fell, really as a family, for the charms of one bumbling yet lovable Ernest P. Worrell.

If the name doesn't strike an immediate chord in your mind, you've apparently grown up somewhere else. For us, Ernest was the best of slapstick low-brow comedy, with hilarity ensuing in films like Ernest Goes to Camp, Ernest Goes to Jail, and the holiday favorite, Ernest Saves Christmas. Jim Varney's "Aw shucks" hilarity and pratfalls made this ole' southern boy laugh many a time and I'm not ashamed to admit it. Now, having grown and matured and developed a taste for cinematic features that are perhaps a bit more avant garde, perhaps a bit more respected, I realize that I really shouldn't like Ernest. But I can't help it. I'm only broken hearted that there'll be no more from Ernest since the untimely passing of Jim Varney in 2000.

But, Ernest will forever live on in my thoughts and memories as a great character. So, I present to you yet another one of my guilty pleasures, Mr. Ernest P. Worrell: