A Warm, Poorly Lit Place

Across the street sits a little upscale back alley café. Five stories of evergreen trimmed red brick office building sits on it's shoulders. An outside air duct painted a dusky orange runs down from the second story and humps out toward the stonework bar counter covered in snow. A black wrought iron fence contains the few shrubs, planters of long dead grasses and mismatched patio furniture. The café's name, Elements, hangs over the French doors and windows, shadowed by dwarven and barren maple trees strung with a scattering of white Christmas lights. A duck and drake Mallard waddle near the sandwich board sign, apparently the place's only patrons. The reflected street lights give the corner a warm glow. Etta James and Louis Armstrong wander out through the traffic toward me. Obscured by the frost on the window, a lone waiter or cook or bartender or all of the above stares out at the bustling burger joint across the street.

Super Bowl ?

     SO I've been informed that this year's half time show is Madonna. Madonna?

     Now I don't want to stereotype but I'm going to anyway. The average football watcher likes to drink beer, discuss lawn mower engines and rock out. He's probably a man who eats chicken wings and nachos, wears mostly T-shirts and jeans, wears baseball hats to cover his balding spot and scratches his ass without thinking about it. This is not the kind of crowd that listens to Madonna. I mean, if this was half time at the World Cup, I could see this going over without too much complaint. But we're talking American, hard working, hard drinking, hard playing, musclebound Marines here. Ok. That's enough stereotyping. Or is it?

     It got me to thinking. I remember 'N Snyc and Britney Spears having graced the girdiron in the past. So I found this list and was somewhat surprised. The first few decades were about football. The half time shows were mostly marching bands and the like. The kind of high school homecoming show you'd expect in a 1960's midwest movie. Then there was a rocky period sponsored by Disney. Disney? Why is Disney plugging cartoons to our stereotypes? Then comes the curious period of figure skaters and pop singers. Tiny teen poptarts with voices like a cat getting neutered without aenesthetic. There were a smattering of rocking shows - The Who, The Stones, Paul McCartney, Tom Petty, Bruce Springsteen. This is the kind of stuff your fanbase listens to, NFL. And then you slap them with the kaleidescope of prancing, cone-clad bobble-heads. Most ticket holders probably couldn't recognize half the people on the stage this year. Even fewer could care.

     So why? Why push this sludge on a rock loving public? My only thought on this is that the producers of the show are tyring to sell the next three hours of a Sunday afternoon to women who read Cosmo. This, frankly, doesn't seem like the best business strategy. You don't sell cat food to vegetarians. Let's be honest. The selling point of the Super Bowl for at least the last decade has been the commercials. You're just not going to get gangs of ladies together on the couch to watch a bunch muscled men pat each other on the ass after attempting tear another guy's arm off. This might make sense if things were reversed. Get a bunch of guys to watch greased up women feel each other up? Sounds super. But women just don't do that. It's not their thing. Now, if the footballers were wearing Prada... Well I suppose Madonna might be wearing Prada.

Douche on the Street #18 - Extremely Loud and Incredibly and Tasteless

THE whole strip mall was shaking. The windows rattled. When the door opened, I had to cover my ears. I couldn't even tell what you were listening to. It wasn't necessarily music I heard coming from your grey Pontiac Sunfire with gull wing doors. It was the sound of the 140 decibels of bass shaking your car to pieces. There was a lot of thump thump thumping and vrrvrrvrrvrring.

     You ordered your pizza and decided to stay to eat it. But you didn't think to go turn off your car "stereo." Or close your doors when it was below zero out. It was almost ten at night. Not late enough to call the cops for your noise pollution, but late enough for you to know better than to cruise around town blasting your crap and then parking it. I like a little music with dinner. It's good for the digestion. I'm not so big on earthquakes with my meals. How are you not deaf?

      Because you have absolutely no concept of those around you (and how could you, being deaf and all) and choose to plaster the audible equivalent of feces on the wall all over the neighbourhood, BLYP 515, you are a douchebag.