Friday, February 10, 2012

SUPER BERLE SUNDAY

 Another Super Bowl Sunday and I still don't know what the hell Go Daddy.com is.  Saying it is a search engine doesn't help.  I still have two bottles of white out on my desk.  That is whom you are dealing with.
 The game, that surrounded the Grammy Awards halftime show, was actually a pretty good one.  It took forever to get started.  The pre-game show was very reminiscent of extended foreplay.  I'm not a proponent of foreplay; or lingerie for that matter.  I consider them both a waste of time.
 America The Beautiful and the National Anthem before kickoff.  Two songs that never made it to the top of the billboard charts.  Why both of them? Thank God the game was being played in a domed stadium.  That stopped the predictable fly bys of scary fighter jets.  When has it become necessary to wear flag pins when announcing a football game?  The game hasn't even started and Middle America is so riled up that they want to invade Iran.
 Even the toin coss has gotten out of control.  The referee explains to the 27 co-captains, future NFL hall of fame inductees, a General Petraeus look-a-like, and 2 of the judges from the Voice, the difference between heads and tails.  "Heads are these silly little moon things that look like Benito Mussolini.  Tails are the lyrics to two of the songs from the broadway musical Gypsy."
 The first half consisted of some mediocre plays that were magnified out of proportion because it is the Super Bowl after all.  People in Vegas were all ready collecting on some silly early wagers like:  The first Giant player that made a sack and didn't do a celebration.  The first Patriot player that mentioned Valerie Harper's name in the huddle.  Plus, people in homes all across America, were ragging on the latest talking baby commercial.  The one's that weren't ragging were wondering how they got the baby to remember all that dialog.
 I know that we don't need to return to a halftime show consisting of a marching band messing up a Fleetwood Mac song.  But, enough with geezer rock.  Madonna, with her pom poms, looked like she was auditioning for a Richard Simmons workout video.  The finger malfunction was the best part of the show.
 Why do we have to have a musical act during halftime? Other ideas:  A fifteen minute diatribe by Ron Paul about the national debt.  Mud wrestling with the Housewives of Beverly HIlls.  Iron Chef shenanigans.  Dick jokes from an old time comedian like the late Milton Berle.  What about Rickles? "Hey Eli, how does it feel to be not as good as your brother or your father? And you Mr. Pretty Boy Tom Brady, I'll get to you in a minute.  Don't get your panties in a Bundchen you hockey puck!"
 The game starts to get serious in the fourth quarter.  Annoying announcer anecdotes continue.  "Not since Vince Lombardi french-kissed Y.A. Tittle have I seen such perfection."  It came down to the last play.  A long hail Mary pass was thrown.  The only person that could have completed that hail Mary pass would have been Tim Tebow.  He claims to actually know Mary.  It is incomplete.  Giants win.  Confetti is flying.  Trophy is hoisted.
 This is when you really needed Rickles.  "What are you gonna do with that trophy other than piss in it?"

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