Elliott has been sweetly pushing me to write something for his/our blog and I have gently and stubbornly said I have nothing to write. Who would want to hear my opinion on anything? Anyone I know would simply ask me. But in the interests of spousal kindliness and from a certain amount of stubborn I-can-do-it-when-I-get-around-to-it-ness, I am writing something. About the Super Bowl.
“Sheesh,” I can hear you say, “Ann’s writing about the Super Bowl? She doesn’t even known which end of the ball goes forward.” (Yes I do, it’s the pointy end.)
Actually, it’s not about the game I want to write, though we did watch one (I’m tempted to call it an inning) quarter. We also watched the half-time show and a lot of the ads.
First, the ads. I must be getting old, but I simply don’t find it amusing to see a woman knocked down into the mud by a giant log or a guy brought to his knees by a kick to his balls or any other sort of violent mischief. I know I’m not supposed to take these sorts of things seriously (“Aw, come on, Ann, it’s just in fun!”), but such representations leaving me feeling like I live in a very sick society. When did we ever find amusement in watching someone else get hurt, even if it is “just in fun”? I admit to an irrepressible urge to laugh when I see someone do a slippy dance on a bit of ice, but it doesn’t last past that moment when the poor dancer actually starts to fall and it slowly sinks into my brain that someone might get hurt. I admit to roadside fascination about accidents. But so many of the ads on the Super Bowl (and have you noticed how they now have ads about the ads?) are gratuitously violent? Our youth ARE impressionable and we are subtly and surely molding their minds–not to mention the squishy minds of we adults–to find violent acts amusing and not reprehensible. I was disgusted, in short. But that’s not a surprise. I gave up watching television a long time ago. When I find myself somewhere where it’s playing, I have to drag my eyes away from it much like driving past that roadside accident. It’s fascinating in a deranged way. (Side note: Two weeks ago somebody introduced me to The Biggest Loser. My first reality show. I hate to say it, but I loved it.)
Now on to the half-time show, the Black-Eyes Peas. First a disclaimer: I’d never heard the Black-Eyed Peas before. (And is Usher part of them or was he a separate act? I’m still not sure…) Anyway, and it must be age again, but I couldn’t understand most of the lyrics. I’ve always been challenged that way, music never having been one of my strong points, but I watched the lips move and tried to make sense of the words–and there was a big disconnect. So, I turned off my ears and looked at the costuming. Now THAT was cool. Hokey, but cool. I think the choreographers/costumers deserve the credit for the show, however much is due. To pull off that sort of a live event must take an enormous amount of coordination and technology. I don’t know much about costuming (despite having just edited a 1900-page book on costumes) but pulling off a dance of that magnitude had to take all of the dancers in the Dallas/Fort Worth area a fair amount of time–tho admittedly the “dancing” didn’t look hard, but remembering “Oh, now I’m supposed to be a green arrow!” “Okay, red heart time” “Let’s see, white rows, and I turn left–no right!” must have been a lot to keep track of. Keeping track of my arms and legs is tough enough, but color too? So, hats off to the dancers, choreographers, and costumers! They were the stars of the show.
And the game? I hear the Packers won. Whatever. They were both good teams and had to play a lot of great games to make it as far as they did. There’s no shame in losing, tho I admit winning is probably a lot more fun.
And now the hype begins for next year. I can no longer say I watch for the ads. Or the half-time show. Maybe I’d better figure out how to play football and watch for the game itself.