Last night was the Super Bowl -- or the Stupid Bowl as my friends Jahna and Blair call it. In fact, they still may be in the throes of their annual Stupid Bowl Party even though the game has been over for 4 hours.
Paul McCartney playing what the people want during the half time show. Man, he looks good for an old guy. What is he? 63 this year. Will we still love him when he's 64? I guess we will. After all, he wrote "Can't Buy Me Love" AND "Helter Skelter," which more than compensate for "Say Say Say" and the unfortunate collaborations with Michael Jackson.
Speaking of which, at this evening's Super Bowl party in Cleveland, one of the hosts simply refuses to believe that Jacko is a pedophile. OH COME ON. It is so obvious.
Better --- today was warm by winter standards - something like 49 degrees, which caused most of the piled up dirty snow to melt. Party hosts Michael and Rafeeq had a grill going outside and they cooked up chicken thighs, ribs, hot dogs and black eyed peas. Someone brought cole slaw. There were no sweets. Boo Hoo. The savory stuff was good, however.
Since I have no interest in football, apart from the Ohio teams' uniforms (orange for the Browns and tiger-striped helmets for the Bengals), this night was about food and watching the half time show and hoping for excellent car commercials. The commercials were certainly lackluster this year - in both presentation, concept and execution. Not a single commercial had amazing cinematography; not a single commercial had a clever concept - the bikers being afraid of "Ford Tough" trucks? Give me a break. No break-throughs in editing either. Bah humbug.
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