Singing Those Super Bowl Blues
Like many of you, I was a little disappointed with yesterday’s Super Bowl. Not with the outcome, mind you, since I really don’t have an NFL favorite these days and really didn’t care who won. I do enjoy a good athletic contest, however, but unfortunately what was supposed to be pro football’s ultimate gridiron tussle turned into an anemic affair which neither team seemed to really want to win. The real news was Pittsburgh’s three road wins over the top three American Conference teams en route to the “big game.” Everything else seemed like anticlimax.
The commercials, with a couple of notable exceptions, were a bust as well. Budweiser always does a good job with the Clydesdales (the “streaker” was funny and the “passing of the bridle” warm and moving). But the ones featuring contemporary twentysomethings portrayed as eternal, Peter Panish frat boys whose lives revolve around how much beer is on hand and whose idea of a higher diety is a “magic refrigerator” filled with Bud give me pause. A note to my Gen X and Y friends: do you find these at least mildly insulting?
For me, the redeeming moments of last evening were our time spent with the small group of family and friends who came over (that Lawler’s Barbecue was great, eh?) and the fact that at the moment the Steelers were finally starting to assert themselves, I was standing in a house whose previous owner had been none other than Steeler Hall of Fame receiver John Stallworth (who still lives in Huntsville) picking up Number Three Son from a Super Bowl party. I did enjoy that little irony.
But if you want to hear the “Super Bowl Blues” sung by a more accomplished artist than me, then you should travel on over to Contratimes where the Granite State’s poet laureate and bard Bill Gnade unpacks yesterday’s failures and offers up some interesting and promising solutions in his posts, “Rejoice and Weep: A Mixed World in a Super Bowl” and “Left Cold in America: The Super Bowl.”
But Bill, I just have one question: If there’s no snow in New Hampshire and no snow in Huntsville, then where, pray tell, did all the snow go?
6 Comments
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Lynda Bee
Hiya Mikee!
I for one am “Super-bowled” out! For us’ns up here in Deee-Troit – it’s pretty much been done in every way shape and form. Nice to have Detroit look nice on TV for a change tho.
My favorite commerical was the Sprint phone – with the “Crime Deterent!” Cracked me up!
🙂 Bee
mike the eyeguy
Bee–
The Motor City did look nice–congrats to Detroit for putting their best foot forward.
I didn’t see the Sprint commercial but I’ve heard everyone talking about that one. I’ll have to get online and watch that one.
Jason Bybee
Mike,
The commercials are “mildly insulting” to put it mildly. But then again, I’m the world’s youngest dinosaur, so not sure my vote counts for much.
Jason — a GenXer
contratimes
Mike,
Thanks for the plaudits! But I am shocked, I mean SHOCKED, that you should be, well, so concrete about the snow. I, too, have fallen prey to this epistemological folly. You see, in answer to you question, the snow for which you and I look is not visible to dopes like us. Unlike many others, particularly those in the meteorological field, we can’t see “theoretical” snow; we’re blind to snow that falls (in abundance) in the abstract. Now, in part because of your help as an eye guy, I have bespectacled myself with the proper lenses and —Voila!— I see snow all over the picture of Huntsville you so generously shared in your earlier post! Moreover — Presto!– I see tons of white gold in my yard here in the Igneous State!
The moral of this experience for me is not to be blinded by my own expectations. Even in the most concrete way, and here’s the paradox, the sky in Huntsville was undoubtedly filled with snow at some atmospheric level. I (not you) just can’t see it because of my expectations: I expect snow to accumulate on the ground. Hey, look, if millions of people can enthusiastically participate in “Fantasy Football,” surely you and I can frolic in Fantasy Snow. In fact, I guarantee I’ve got way more Fantasy Snow in my yard than anyone else, even you. Of course, I am wearing my snow-colored glasses.
And by the way: On a (slightly) more serious note, Huntsville’s dusting is still a lot of snow: Remember, when you measure snowfall with a measuring stick, you are to hold the rule horizontally (that’s how we do it up in these here parts). That way you always get the sort of snow totals the prognosticators prognosticate. Just last year I measured over 4 miles of snow in my town. I mean, there was a lot more than that, but my tape measure is only SO long.
Peace and mirth, and many thanks for your encouragement,
BG
mike the eyeguy
BG–
I see clearly now, thanks!
“Fantasy snow”…I guess that’s better than no snow at all, but sometimes I wish the real stuff would make it to the ground for once, just for the change in pace.
Ed
contratimes said “Even in the most concrete way, and here’s the paradox, the sky in Huntsville was undoubtedly filled with snow at some atmospheric level. I (not you) just can’t see it because of my expectations: I expect snow to accumulate on the ground.”
We have the same problems with swirling vortexes (aka Tornadoes). The weather radar technology has become so sophisticated that they can actually tell what the rain drops, clouds, and winds are thinking. Whether (hey, a pun) or not those elements decide to get together and wreak havoc on the ground is another matter. However, our weather persons do not take that risk and will issue a warning if something looks suspicious, which is a good thing … but the ‘cry wolf’ syndrome starts to set in when nothing happens.