Object Lessons: Rantings of a Lone Pamphleteer
Secret Surprise Guest?
My husband, his friends, and I just finished watching Superbowl XXXVIII. It was quite a spectacle, with the Pats coming in ahead of the game, though not ahead of the spread. Vegas is happy, and I'm happy "my team" won. I'd picked them from slim association with Rhode Island, and I'm glad.
Still, the 'Bowl is not my most exciting choice of how to spend an evening. Usually, I pay more attention to the commercials than the game, and take a break during the half-time show to watch one of the many options cropping up on other networks.
This year, however, the whole crew was bantering about who would be the secret surprise half-time guest, a sport which kept me occupied and engaged in the show. I guessed Michael Jackson, a reasonable assumption with his sister in the lead role, until Jon pointed out that he couldn't leave the State of California for the time being. Good point. Other guesses included: George W., The Bush Twins, Elvis, JLo, and other singers and actors. I still don't know who it was supposed to have been. The shocking end to the Clockwork Orange-style show made me rethink the whole issue. I see. It was a Secret Suprise Breast.
I'm somewhat offended by the whole shebang (an apt term if you saw Janet's and Justin's gyrations). As Jeanene pointed out, the Halftime show was airing at about 6 pm on the West Coast, plenty early enough for children of all ages to witness the Benny Hill-esque spectacle of Janet's pastied right tit.
What offends me is not the revelation on a public network of most of a breast. It's the tie to A Clockwork Orange, a book (and movie) about rapists. There was violence in the move on Justin Timberlake's part, and shock and shame (presumably acted) on Janet's part. What were they thinking, not just with that coup de grace, but with the whole offensive half time show?
All I can say is, well, Justin, I guess you're calling her Miss Jackson since you're nasty.