At first I was ashamed. After all, I’ve always considered myself a fairly conscientious, well-informed member of society. But one day I just had to admit it to myself: I love to watch professional wrestling.

Of course, when I share this affection with people, they usually assume that I must find the ridiculous pageant laughable. Although a popular cop-out for the closet wrestling fan, this excuse is not entirely true.

First of all, it is important to understand that professional wrestling is much more similar to a soap opera than a sporting event. In essence, both provide a pleasant escape from reality, and both require very little active thought on the part of the viewer. For some people, their fantasy escape is a tropical island filled with the love and betrayal of the rich and powerful. Personally, I prefer a bunch of huge men in a ring pretending to fight.

Now some would argue (and on good grounds) that professional wrestling is not entirely a healthy escape. It is true, beyond the obvious violence that it promotes, professional wrestling advocates nearly every sexual and cultural stereotype in the book. Their promoters are well aware they will never go broke appealing to the lowest common denominator.

For a while this troubled me. After all, my pals at the WWF often pander to a type of ignorance I find truly disturbing. And yet, every time The Rock “lays the smack down,” my spirits soar.

I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for my little fetish. But then I remembered another time I had similar feelings.

When I was a baby-faced 7th grader at Ames Middle School, one of my greatest pleasures was to listen to the musical stylings of one Guns N’ Roses. Many an afternoon I spent walking my paper route while listening to the gentle croon of Axl and company on such heartfelt classics as “Mr. Brownstone” and “Back Off, Bitch!”

Well, I swore off GNR for several years, but when I went back to listen to them I was shocked by what I heard. The lack of respect, and even all-out violence against women advocated in their lyrics is quite disturbing. But I can’t help but start my head a movin’ and pump my fist in the air when the bass drum kicks in during the intro to “Paradise City.”

So what do Guns N’ Roses and the WWF have to do with each other? It’s quite simple; no matter how many ways they may be damaging to the fabric of society, I still find them entertaining as hell.

Am I the only person who has these feelings? Hell no. After any major disaster, like a hurricane, several news channels will be selling videos featuring the “highlights” of the event. Do people buy these to wallow in sympathy for the victims? Hell no, again. They buy them so they can watch some poor bastards house get blown away.

Entertainment is not intellectual, it’s emotional. Sometimes we don’t like to admit that certain things give us a very positive emotional rush. Well, why not? These feelings are part of human nature, and, despite what many organized religions teach, there is no reason to feel guilty about human nature.

I realize I’m setting a dangerous precedent by saying that it might be okay to enjoy something you may not completely believe in. After all, life imitates art (and sometimes even Guns N’ Roses). I can’t say that exposure to these negative messages hasn’t desensitized me. Who knows, maybe I should have helped my neighbor the other day when he accidentally set himself on fire. Instead, I just videotaped and cheered.

But all kidding aside (I don’t even own a camcorder) any message we are presented in the media needs to be questioned. The dilemma is, no matter how many things about a song or a wrestling match you don’t like, there still may be some things that you do like. Don’t feel bad about it. Being entertained by something that violates your sacred moral code doesn’t devalue your beliefs, integrity, or anything else. I have no problem whatsoever with enjoying Bob Dylan’s lyrical beauty and Slash’s bitchin’ guitar solo in the same afternoon.

When you’re dealing with the media any moral stand is just an arbitrary line in the sand anyway. Trying to make one’s feeling match up with some intellectual set of standards will only lead to stress, bitterness and possibly Capitol Hill.

So my advice, friends: enjoy life (and pop culture) in all its rich variety. Wake up with a little Ray Charles in the morning. Watch the British parliament on C-Span over lunch. In the mood for a relaxed afternoon? Why not read some Salinger?

Looking for a little excitement for later in the evening? I suggest renting either “Ultimate Fighting” or porn. Then lull yourself softly to sleep with Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.

And if you’re looking for me, I’ll be watching the WWF, unfettered by the scoffs of my peers, and really hoping some guy gets hit with a chair.

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Ben Godar is a junior in sociology from Ames.