Monday, February 02, 2004

Okay, yes, it's a bit silly to get that pumped up about a boob. I do, after all, have cable.
Let me make clear here that what I was squealing like a drunk otter about had a lot more to do with some screwing up that badly on national TV. Scratch that. International TV.
Look, like the Oscars, I have a love/ hate relationship with the Superbowl. Most of the time, the game is deadly dull and the best part about it is that I've called in sick in advance, so I can nurse my hangover on Monday. The adage that "you watch it for the commercials" isn't very realistic anymore. Ad agencies got wise, and nobody blows money on these ads the way they used to. Or, at least, the new or interesting commercials get used up in the first 45 minutes (how about that Ford GT?).
And I hateses, I hateses the half-time show. Ever since David Copperfield lamed it up back around '89, I've been pretty wary of the whole enterprise. Jamie claims last year's half-time show was okay, but I'm still fixated on how abso-ludicrous the Britney Spears/ Aerosmith half-time show was two years ago. Seriously. It was awful.
The pre-show entertainment this year was cheesy and smarmy enough, but what was up with the Astronaut thing? I mean, really. It was great to see a shuttle crew, but two minutes before kick-off, nobody needs to be serenaded by Josh Groban (except my mum, who loves Groban). In fact, the Panthers may have cause to sue if they can prove it was Groban's serenade which made them lose the will to live, and thereby, the will to win the game. I wasn't sure what the angelic children's choir, Groban, NASA, some Apache helicopters and a stretching Tom Brady all had to do with each other, but the directors made sure I saw all of these things in a beautiful montage.
(***UPDATE *** okay, yes. I feel bad. It was, in fact, nice to remember the anniversary of the tragedy of the Space Shuttle Columbia's destruction over Texas. But... the astronaut guy... in the suit... on the elevator... then waving the flag while the flag kids ran around... and the kiddy choir... and Tom Brady stretching... c'mon. Work with me here.)
Anyway, this is the context of the Superbowl. Cheesy. Wholesome. Over-hyped. Uber-patriotic and fun for the whole family.
So if I find Janet Jackson's boob suddenly springing forth to somehow create some cognitive dissonance, you will have to forgive me. We are not the French. Yes, we Americans should all be more desensitized to the naked female form and not feel inclined to gouge out our own eyes for the sin of seeing the naked female flesh. But we are not desensitized. Especially when the form belongs to Janet Jackson. Performing with the heinous excuse for entertainment which is Justin Timberlake. At half-time. Of the Superbowl. Sigh. What do you want? It's MTV.

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