In a new effort to achieve an even greater level of evil, my son has decided to re-enact the pernicious pastiche performance (I do not dare to call it "art") that is known as the Half-Time Show for Superbowl XLV. If you haven't seen it, consider yourself spared a front-seat view of the collapse of Western Civilization. Not only is it a crime against humanity, it is a crime against inanity.
That being said, I did find the show entertaining in a "it can't possibly get any worse--wait, it just did" way. Just when you think the Tron outfits and entrance are done, up pops Slash! Down comes Usher! Abstract neon shapes on the field turn into the word "love" during a song about love! When one of the Black-Eyed Peas' Tron suits went from a white LED square to a red heart shape, I thought they achieved the pinnacle of block-headedness. But wait, bring on the block heads! Here is J, representing that culminating moment:
In order to avoid the British critique of being called pants, J decided to wear none. You should just be glad, dear reader, that I only have a picture and not a video.
That being said, I did find the show entertaining in a "it can't possibly get any worse--wait, it just did" way. Just when you think the Tron outfits and entrance are done, up pops Slash! Down comes Usher! Abstract neon shapes on the field turn into the word "love" during a song about love! When one of the Black-Eyed Peas' Tron suits went from a white LED square to a red heart shape, I thought they achieved the pinnacle of block-headedness. But wait, bring on the block heads! Here is J, representing that culminating moment:
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| Notice L fleeing in terror! |
In order to avoid the British critique of being called pants, J decided to wear none. You should just be glad, dear reader, that I only have a picture and not a video.
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