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From the moment Sting whored himself for a few dollars more during the pre-game festivities, I knew that this was going to be, true to hyperbole, the worst Super Bowl ever. Is it just me, or did Sting's little Pakistani sidekick look mortified to be performing in front of a bunch of rich white people while dancing girls and buffoons cavorted about on the field? Hell, come to think of it, even the former King of Pain looked somewhat embarrassed. Or maybe he was just wincing over the awful acoustics. I am so sick of this guy talking about "artistic integrity" as the reason why he would never reunite the Police. When the money's right, he lets himself be a schill for just about anything. What's next, a calyspo rendition of "Roxanne" at an Arby's grand opening?
Speaking of schills, Bob Dole, with his reinvigorated prong, has fucked himself crazy. How else to explain that awful Pepsi commercial? I don't know what is more pathetic: A former respected statesman hocking soft drinks, or said statesman looking like a dapper cadaver under layers of unnatural makeup. Well, at least he wasn't holding that damn pen. (By the way and off the cuff: I used to work for one of Bob Dole's vital campaign advisors, who happened to be quite homosexual, as did a large portion of the senator's staff. Isn't that just cutely ironic?)
Ray Lewis and the Baltimore Colts--er, Browns--er, Ravens have to be the most unlikable Stupor Bowl team in quite some time. Lewis is a certifiable prick, and a stupid one at that. Really digged the moronic posturing Mr. Stop- picking-on-me-I-didn't-do-shit-but-suppress-evidence-during- a-double-murder-investigation pulled during the introductions. It looked as if his Stupor Bowl Eve- contracted crabs were acting up or something. And it was so charming how the majority of the Ravens screamed creative variations of "motherfucker" into the camera when they ran out on the field. And as for Dilfer...geez, that guy looks and acts as if he'd be just as happy with a new porn mag and a can of cheez whiz as he would be with a Stupor Bowl ring.
I can't believe I rooted for the Giants. The fucking Giants, a New York team. I hate New York teams. Thing is, though, these wet noodles didn't behave at all like a New York team. They acted like the Kansas City Chiefs, frozen in the glare of the spotlight, fear disguised badly as modesty and grace.
Yes, Aerosmith has sucked for about, oh, twenty years or so, but I think they reached the pinnacle of crap tonight. Steven Tyler looked as if he wanted to personally tatoo each of that boy band's pimpled asses with his Jaggeresque lips. My God, the horror! Hell, I would've rather seen a half time spectacle starring Elton John, Tiffany, and the cast of "Rent."
Mike Ditka looked as if he was going to chew some Pirate Ship ass, he was having such a hard time hearing and talking over all the bad music and cannon fire. It was the only comedy of the night, excluding Kerry Collin's meltdown, worth watching.
Kerry Collins...think he's hit the bottle yet? They'll find him on the streets of Tampa tomorrow, naked and smeared with feces, screaming racial inanities and impromptu haikus about Dom Capers.
Ah, the Stupor Bowl, that most American of uneventful events. Can't wait till next year, when we get to see the Ryan Leaf-led Chargers battle the Stoney Case-led Lions. Final Score: 48-13, Chargers.
Oh, and as for this new regime of dominating defense over powerful offense? A one year fad. Why? Because Marty Schottenheimer, the man whose doctrine the Ravens and Giants were probably praying to this year ("All things unimaginitive and conservative lead to victory")will be back in the coaching fold. And nothing ever goes that guy's way. With his luck, Julia Robert's brother, John "Horseface" Elway, will come out of retirement. Ah, "feel the power," indeed.
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