Monday, February 8, 2010
Geaux Saintes.... le screw le Manning!
Just some observations from the Super Bowl yesterday....
This may not be the popular angle, but is anyone else tired of this whole friggin "the Saints have brought New Orleans back" bullshit? I mean, I understand the tragedy of the hurricane and the devastation of the biggest drinking town in the country. But what exactly does a Saints victory have to do with bringing the city back? It's as if the Saints not only scored more points than the Colts in a football game in Miami, but they apparently also rebuilt the French Quarter, restored electricity to the poorest neglected parts of the city and raised Nawlens above sea level so that a hurricane can never wash them down the drain again. We thought it would take money and miracles to restore Nawlens to its original beauty. Who knew it really only needed a pick six in the fourth quarter?
Here's an idea for Drew Brees and his MVP money.... get some spackle and fill up that New Jersey shaped scar on your cheek. Good lawd it's distracting.
Super Bowl Entertainment: Queen Latifah should NEVER wear jeans when she knows she is going to be broadcast on wide screens acround the world. Holy shit, that denim could not have stretched out more if it were being pulled from both directions by a couple of Budweiser clydesdales. Cousin Carrie did a fantastic job with our National Anthem - not much more to say about that. And then there was The Who. I for one thought they were simply great. But I must admit it was a bit more disturbing with each belly shot from Pete Townshend. And the grey stubble did not do him any favors - looks like just about every sex offender mug shot in post offices around the country.
Peyton Manning could not win his second championship, lending more credibility to the fact that as great as Manning and Tommy F'ing Brady may be, neither one of them have ever won a Super Bowl without Adam "My Wife Still Thinks He's Hot" Vinatieri. Coincidence? I'm laying dollars to crullers (better than simple donuts) that #4 hits that 51 yarder. That aside, the look on Seyton's face after he pulled his ass off the grass once he threw that pick was perhaps the most enjoyable part of the game for me.
I wish I could comment on the commercials, but I was in a bar and I could not hear them. So with that being said, my two favorite commercials, in no particular order: Meghan Fox in the bathtub and Danica Patrick on the massage table. Who the fuck needs a script for those scenes?