I love Cyanide and Happiness. They brighten my day. They're kinda like a guilty pleasure, only I don't have any feelings of guiltiness associated with the pleasure I get from spending precious time browsing their comics (instead of posting stories to the web).

That's the thing about guilty pleasures. I honestly don't experience guilt when I get pleasure from activities (I use this term loosely) that others would go to great lengths to keep hidden away from the rest of the world. I have many guilty pleasures, I guess, if only because of the definition other people assign those two words when they appear side-by-side in a sentence. Maybe I should feel shame that I derive pleasure from some of the things I do. Maybe I should care that other people are embarrassed for me. But maybe, just maybe, I should be grateful that I find pleasure in something.

So now we come to the point of today's blog. Actually, I've already made my point. All without providing you with any content save a comic strip that doesn't really have anything to do with anything at all. So now, on to the content, meager though it will be.

It's confession time. My biggest guilty pleasure currently, although I'm not really all that guilty over it, would have to be the Jonas Brothers' t.v. show that comes on Disney Channel. Most people my age would shudder to admit this. I mean, after all, they are what I like to call a teenie-bopper phenomenon. But have you seen the show? It's freakin' hilarious. I'm serious. It makes fun of their fans hardcore. They're all the time getting into these ridiculous situations because they're neverending screaming fans create chaotic situations out of the most ordinary tasks.

Each brother has a different persona to play in the show: Joe is the cool, good-looking ladies' man; Kevin is the goofy but cute dumb one; and Nick is the boy genius. They have their own fashionista who, at the tender age of 17, has custom-designed a wardrobe system that specifically matches each Jonas' preferences. She and Joe end up together at some point (duh). And then there's the president of their fan club who always manages to injure one of them whenever she's around.

It's so silly it borders on being slap-stick comedy. I absolutely love to let this 30 minutes of pure stupidity melt my brain cells. And I'm honestly not ashamed to admit it. As a matter of fact, I'd go so far as to recommend it to anyone who needs a good laugh. Even if that means you end up laughing at me for getting pleasure out of something so juvenile.