Did I ignore my customary 9/11 post yesterday? You betcha. I realized that this year, for some reason, I didn’t want to commemorate it on my politically-oriented website.

With each passing year, now, there will be fewer and fewer people who were there in New York when it happened, people who actually looked at the burning towers from their doorsteps. Why, I’d bet I’m one of only several million at this point! And it became clear in 2003 that our government wasn’t going to pay any special attention to us New Yorkers when it came to prosecuting the many-tentacled beast known as the War on Terror. We were there, but we weren’t the right sort of people to appreciate what it meant.

So what do I want to talk about instead, here on the 12th? Guilty pleasures, that’s what. Pleasures that I am guilty of. Indulgences. Cultural widgets. Freedoms that I am presumably hated for…

Mr. September. In some ways, I like September baseball better than October’s brand. Sudden rookie phenoms, last minute fogey resurgences, desperate, crazy games… if you like baseball, this is the month to watch it. As a Yankee fan, I’ve been entertained by my schizoid boys all summer, but this month, everyone’s scrambling and making glorious, heroic fools of themselves.

Kanye v. Fitty. If you have no idea what that means, good for you. But I actually have an opinion: I listen to Kanye West, insane though he doubtless is. In fact, I like how nutz he is. It’s oddly comforting, not to mention entertaining. 50 Cent… not so much.

Joe Biden. Listening to Joe at the Magic General Hearings hearings reminded of something I’ve known for 20 years: Joe Biden is a Senate hearings rock star! Nobody does it better. He’s like Kanye, come to think of it. And McCain is his 50 Cent, still clinging to that career-making “cred” even as it wears thin and implausible under his feet.

Okay, I’ve linked 50 Cent and John McCain. Ta-dah! My work here is done.