...man comes on the radio/And he’s tellin’ me more and more/About some useless information/Supposed to fire my imagination.....
Who exactly are we honoring today? We are honoring: New Orleans, black women from Detroit, black women musicians from Detroit, male musicians from New Orleans, our troops, salsa and chips, boobies, Dr. Seuss, football, cars, ancient English musicians, American excess, boobies, Detroit, Disney World, beer, John Madden, and boobies.
Honestly, other than the Vegas-style Burger King commercial, the whole ordeal was extremely disappointing.
There was a game, but you'd hardly know it.
The wizened rocker wraiths in the middle versus the chubby wholesome anthemists at the beginning almost seemed an advertisment for fast living and drug use. I mean, they looked like animated egyptian mummies, but those old fucks could move.
By the way, what is up with English artists two years in a row? Gimmie back American Janet and her well-dressed boobie, thanks.
And please, if you're going to take the time to secure rights to Dr. Seuss' Oh, The Places You'll Go and spend serious money on Harrison Ford (?!) could you please, please, take the time to correct the metre in the final line of the bastardized poem?
Ruined the whole thing for me. I am so not joking. Next year, I'm watching the Lingerie Bowl.
Or maybe I'll play.
(Satisfaction; The Rolling Stones)