Well? What did you think of the “Super“ Bowl?

I knew this game was gonna be a snooze-fest and I even skipped my son’s first ever Super Bowl bash. Yeah, he bought himself a converted refrigerator, cleaned the tap, the lines and had the CO2 tank refilled. Last I heard, he had a half of some kind of ‘pensive lager. He had cases of bottled domestic beers. And he had a boatload of young folks coming over to watch the big championship game. That’s all well and good, but I won’t be bribed into watching something I know is gonna suck. I don’t care how many barrels you’ve got stacked on the back porch waiting in reserve. You couldn’t offer me enough fermented weeds to watch the interactive DVD version of Brokeback Mountain. And you couldn’t poor me enough suds to have to cover the boxer shorts, head out the door and pretend last night’s game was something special in mixed company. It wasn’t.

You had one mediocre team that got hot at the right time of the year, and another mediocre team that waltzed through a weak schedule in a conference where the better teams are retooling. Actually, despite giving them little chance of beating whatever team made in from the AFC, I thought the Seahawks dished out as much as they received, if not more. So much for Joey Porter’s bilge about Seattle players wanting to “tap-out” of the game. Ah, the big, bad Steelers. They looked like mere mortals rather than the Jolly Green Giants they thought themselves to be. If Seattle could have stopped shooting themselves in the foot for an entire quarter, and if the NFL had supplied some decent officiating, a lot of people in Pennsylvania would have been crying into their Terrible Towels last night. Whatever. I could really care less once the Giants are shown the exit from the playoffs.

Ben Rothlesssteinberger had himself a helluva game, didn’t he? His putrid numbers rival those of the quarterbacks that registered the worst Super Bowl numbers of all time. He has a lot in common with another Pittsburgh football legend. I mean, Terry Bradshaw was mediocre at best. Did Troy Palamalamucko even show up? All I heard all week was “missile” this and “missile” that, but I don’t remember his name being mentioned during the game. The next LT he ain’t. Never was. Oh, and those gadget plays--those trick plays--are cute and all coming four times a game, but what they highlight is a lack of offensive cohesiveness coming from a team that thinks it’s running game cannot be stopped by any team. (?) If the Steelers are so completely unstoppable, what’s with the pulling-a-rabbit-out-of-a hat-routine on every fourth possession? What’s with the tricks? And what happens when the tricks stop fooling defenses?

I was happy to hear that Jerome Bettis has decided to park the bloated bus. I never liked the guy. He’s built more like a bowling ball than a bus. And I’m tired of watching the top-heavy one stumble forward and fall on his big fat belly for three yards a pop. Whatever. He went on home to Detroit, won the big one and his football road has come to an end. But we don’t honestly believe that he’s going to spend his remaining days any near that burned-out hellhole, that Mogadishu wannabe, do we? Enough with his “going home” bullspit. Again, whatever.

Is it just me, or did the commercials fall well short of what we’ve come to expect during a Super Bowl broadcast? I thought they sucked. The only one that had me sit forward a tad was the one for the new Disney film called “Cars.” I figure Gage Andrew will flip when he sees that offering, and I got to wondering if maybe we could take that one in in downtown Wilkes-Barre in a couple of short months. No, not all of us are afraid of our own shadows. Believe it or not, some of us will be wandering down there to enjoy our new state-of-the-art theater.

Speaking of fraidy-cats, I read a recent blog post from a local blogger in which the author complains about the exorbitant ATM fees charged at the nearby Pantry Quik. He goes on to explain that with crime being what it is in this area he’s hesitant to carry any cash on his person. Hence, the high ATM fees. Now here is a person who will not support new local businesses. This is a guy all too frightened to support the mini-market down on the corner a ways. This is a guy who blames his lack of grit on our elected politicians. Anyway, my four-year-old grandson is not afraid. “Cars” it is. Well, hopefully.

I don’t know what Aaron Neville and Aretha Franklin were smokin’ before the big game, but their “performance” had me yearning for a reprised butchering of the Star Spangled Banner by none other than Roseanne Barr. If what they did qualifies as talent, then maybe I’m in the wrong business. Hell, I could ruin a perfectly good song just as quickly as any over-rated “artist” can. How ‘bout if I do the national anthem on my kazoo next year? And Gage can accompany me with his river horn. Maybe we could chop the big toes off of a dozen Girl Scouts and have them sing back-up. It might be easier to kidnap someone’s Yiddish grandmother, pump her full of Ecstasy and have her sing the national song in Pig Latin.

Ohyay aysay ancay ouyay eesay…

Maybe a hip-hop rendition would work.

Oh say, can you see
Dem worthless bitch hos
Da cops killin’ some mo…

Hmmm…maybe not. We’ll save that sh*t for the Grammys, which absolutely no one cares about anymore.

By the end of the listless first quarter, I had the Aliens director’s cut DVD playin’ in the high-tech ‘puter gizmo, and I was amusing myself by doing screen captures. I’m fresh out of colored string segments to amuse myself with, so the screen capture thing was a bit of improvising on the fly. It sure beat the hell out of most of what the big game had to offer.

Hudson…Hicks! I want motion trackers online in the corridors.!--Sgt. Apone

Look there's something moving in here and it ain't us! Reading's off the charts man! They're all around us man! What the hell?--Pvt. Hudson

Then there’s the issue of the Rolling Stones’ anemic performance. I guess Geritol is in short supply that side of Deerborn. What these guys have accomplished over the course of the past four decades is nothing short of phenomenal. But with that said, they were damn near lethargic last night. Mick Jagger looks like a young man from the neck down and he still has some energy to burn. Charlie Watts looks about right for his age. But Keith Richards and Ron Woods look downright stupid doing the hard rocker bit at this point. If it were up to me, they’d be chasing Brendan Frazier around the subterranean tunnels of some long-lost Sphinx in Mummy 3.

You know, when I come across a forty-something guy sporting a ponytail, (Usually in Plymouth) I reflexively think to myself: “Grow up and get a haircut already.” And the balding fifty-something guys with ponytails make me wanna giggle out loud. But Ron Woods takes this hair thing to a whole other ridiculous level. He has the face of Professor Irwin Corey and the hair of Elvira, our former reigning vampire queen of cheesy beer advertisements. While I admire his talent and his resiliency, I cannot dig a rocker who either buys Clairol in bulk, wears a beautiful wig, or who has revolutionized the ancient art of the comb-over. All of that aside, they might have won me over if they had brought some energy along for the ride to Detroit. When the album version blows away the live version of a given rock ‘n’ roll song, maybe it’s time for some more of Janet Jackson’s sagging mammalian protuberances. I dunno, but the Stones made me think twice about mixing up with the Nazi Youth in our downtown punk rat hole.

Forget Gage and I, forget the Tumbling Stones, enough with Janet’s cow bags. How about if we have the frickin‘ Disney Kids rock the house next year?

I see Bill Cowher has been elevated to “legend” status overnight. I found this drivel at NFL.com:

Other than longevity, what was so special about Bill Cowher? Why not just do what so many other teams in the NFL have found so easy to do and get a new coach?

Pittsburgh 21, Seattle 10.

That's why.

Yawn. Let’s be serious. It took the coach fourteen years to grab himself the big trophy after beating one of the worst teams to ever appear in a Super Bowl. At this rate, he’s due to win another by 2020 assuming that another team as completely vanilla as the Seahawks manage to sneak on by to an NFC title. If Mike Holmgren is such a great NFL coach, somebody explain to me his approach (or lack thereof) to clock management that cost his team dearly--twice! And in the biggest game of their lives no less.

Cowher has been consistent--consistently good. And his teams have been a microcosm of what he seems to be: tough-minded, working class and steady. But never have the words “spectacular” or “overpowering” been applied to what he, or his teams have managed to do, so let’s give him his due and stop somewhere short of comparing him the NFL’s coaching legends. Consider his brilliant half-time adjustments he uttered into the ABC microphone: “We need Ben to settle down.”

Well, as it turned out, Ben never did settle down. And his numbers belie that fact. So what did Coach Cowher do in response to his young quarterback‘s continued struggles? He dialed-up more trick plays like he always does. Sorry, kiddies, but Tom Landry he ain’t. Remember, this is the very same coach who thought he could get to the big game with clueless Kordell Stewart taking the snaps. This is the same coach who rode Tommy Maddox for all he was worth for one season. And this is the same coach who went 15-1 with a rookie quarterback (Big Ben) who’s instructions were to try not to fu>k-up too bad. What you’d call a “low risk/low return” quarterback.

Fact is, the Steelers didn’t even win their division this year and claimed the last available playoff spot. They won’t win their division next year. And they probably won’t even qualify for the playoffs next season. They got hot at the right time this year and defeated the diminished Patriots, the reeling Colts and the Jake Plummer-led Broncos. And then all they had to do was sleepwalk past the upstart Starbucks boys to lay claim to the throne. Do we really think the stars will align so perfectly again next year?

And if I may, I think Ben (whatever-it-is-berger) really needs to shave his ugly mug before a Deliverance Convention breaks out on his front lawn. Squeal piggy!!!

And what’s up with Seattle being allowed to participate in a Super Bowl anyway? Can’t we limit it to teams from the United States? What international time zone are they in? Do the residents of Seattle even know that they lost the big game yet? Parity was one pathetic thing, but allowing teams with the sex appeal and television market of a two-headed horny toad to pollute the biggest event in sports is going too far. What’s next? Augusta, Maine versus Mystery, Alaska?

This should scare you. Sure, after appearing in a Super Bowl, the NFL’s scheduling gurus are supposed to toughen up the Seahawks suspiciously weak ‘05 schedule. But how are they supposed to make that happen in a division in which a well-fed and well-coached Cub Scout troop could go undefeated? Now that you’re sobering up a tad, consider this: If a couple of well-placed solar systems collide again next year--the Seahawks might it back to the Super Bowl. Sober now?

Maybe Congress should appoint a special prosecutor and get to the bottom of this before he have to suffer through the likes of another piss-poor Super Bowl. Where’s Ted Kennedy when we need him to skip a single Happy Hour? Where’s that shrieking bitch that wants to communize what’s left of the country? What did Bush know and when did he know it? Seattle in the Super Bowl? You just know Karl Rove engineered this travesty and inflicted it upon on an unknowing public. There must be some significant oil reserves lying directly underneath Seattle. See that! BIG OIL ruined the Super Bowl and now Bush will tell “lie after lie after lie after lie” to try to convince us otherwise. But Michael Moore and Jimmy Carter won’t let him get away with it when they’re not too busy sucking face with the likes of Hugo Chavez and Fidel Castro. Er, sucking something or other.

The Democrats know that the entire country would be a vast wasteland populated by unthinking Republican-voting trailer park inbred-kinfolk if it were not for New York, Washington D.C. and San Francisco--The Axis of Freakdom. So if that’s the case, can’t we limit the upcoming Super Bowls to the best cities our nation has to offer with a special waver going to Dallas? The Fedrule Govmint mandates every over aspect of our lives no matter how mundane, so why can’t it see to it that teams like the Seattle (?) Seahawks know their proper places and behave themselves?

Rothlesssteinberger vs. Hasslemyback? No, no, no. We want those epic quarterback battles of yesteryear. We want Brady vs. Manning. We want Palmer vs. Manning. We want Green vs. Manning. We want Manning vs. Manning. And we want Manning vs. Manning 2, 3, and 4. Admit it. Wouldn’t the Super Bowls be much more exciting if a team from New York were to play in them year-in and year-out? And not a team wearing green. I think we’ve had enough green for one season. Why not a team from New York wearing blue?

What could be more perfect?

Sez me.

I‘m getting the biggest kick out of Arlen Specter these days. Wow! He’s the big, bad chairman of the senatorial bunch currently investigating (Yawn) Dubya’s decision to allow the NSA to “spy on Americans.” Actually, nobody is spying on Americans. More accurately put, somebody is intercepting the communications of our enemies. And from what seeing, mucking about too much with our avowed enemies is anathema to most Democrats. The only enemy the Democrats recognize is George W. Bush. To them, the events of 9/11 seem to have faded from their jaded memories. They accuse Bush of scare mongering for political gain. And to make such a ridiculous claim suggests that they perceive no threats from abroad. If they do recognize non-domestic threats, then they are lying about Bush to score some political points. Which is it already? If I had to guess, I’d say the families that lost the 3,000 innocent relatives on 9/11 vociferously disagree with the Democrats. Bush is not whipping up fear. He’s simply stating the obvious: A sequel to 9/11 is a distinct possibility. In fact, some say it’s highly likely to happen. Some say when, rather than if.

But back to Senator “Blowhard” Specter. It’s really nifty that he’s so concerned about getting to the bottom of things--to getting to the truth as it applies to domestic spying. But if I remember correctly, he had a chance to do much the same thing when he sat on the Warren Commission. And as we all know, the Warren Commission was to discerning the truth what Lee Harvey Oswald was to winning citizenship awards.

When Senator Specter feels like spilling the closely guarded beans and telling us who really shot JFK, then I’ll get to respecting his newfound quest for the truth. And until those beans get spilled, I will continue to piss in his general direction and wonder aloud about the sanity of the folks who have voted for him over and over again. Sorry, but his was the original cover-up--the original sin--whereas government corruption is concerned, and until he repents for his previous crimes against the populace, I will continue to piss in his general direction and vote for whichever half-wit that bothers to run against him.

Arlen, who shot JFK?

Dubya?

Sorry. Too much Hans Zimmer of late. I gotta get back with the program and soon. Maybe some Cheap Trick will get me to feeling regular again.

GO SEAHAWKS!!!

And don’t come back.

Later