Post Super Bowl Analysis

Last night's Super Bowl was a mix of disasters, chief among them being Beyonc e´.  Really?  What was that?  I guess that is what people mean when they say attitude.  It was enhanced (if you will) by the Disney light show.  I wish I had been playing drinking game that centered on how many times she told the audience what to do.  Oh, she was a talker, that girl.  And the costume?  There were going to be no uniform malfunctions that night.  That, perhaps, was the killer for me.

I liked the game best when the lights went out and the announcers were silenced.  It was beautiful, really, if eerie.  You had to wonder what disaster was about to befall the crowd as we all waited for the KABOOM!  The fact that no one has figured out what caused the power failure is telling enough.  Social outcasts around the country are working on screenplays based on what might have happened and the behind the scenes drama that averts total disaster.  But that half-lighted night with the sound of one hundred thousand uncertain people waiting in the beautiful half-toned chiaroscuro of grays and blues televised live around the globe might never happen again.

The hype about the Super Bowl commercials was just that.  They sucked.  I watched the game with my mother, and she was miffed.  She has no interest in football whatsoever, so I lured her over with a chuck roast cooked in an unglazed water-soaked clay pot with wine and three kinds of onions and peppers and carrots  and red potatoes. . . and plenty of good red wine.  Holy smokes, the roast was good, sweet, really, like honey, and tender enough to cut with a fork.  But even that didn't distract my mother enough to complain about the commercials.  Nope. . . they were a big failure, at least at my house.

I'm not a Ray Lewis fan, but I liked Joe Flacco saying "fucking awesome" at the end of the game.  It was a nice repute to the conservative Republicanism of everything that surrounded it.

And there you have it. . . my boring life.  My mother and I partying like it was 1999.  I forgot to say, though, that we did have chocolate after dinner.