Tag: Superbowl

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The 2010 Grammys

I watched the Grammy Awards for a while. It was striking how much of the presentation consisted of spectacular lights and explosions and special effects. This is an acknowledgement of what the music industry really is about– making everything bigger and louder– rather than any kind of nod to actual musical qualities. If you want to impress the audience even more than the previous performer, God forbid you would do something more artistic. Hell no– just turn up the volume, get bigger amps, bigger lasers, bigger breasts, use a trapeze, strip.

The problem, of course, is diminishing returns. Like the previews at the Cineplex– eventually the amp is at 10 and then what do you do to impress? Tell a story? Develop a character? Couldn’t we just go to 11?

In the middle of all this— an award for Leonard Cohen– “lifetime achievement”. They couldn’t even spare a moment to actually perform one of the legend’s songs. Besides– how do you do a laser show to:

Suzanne takes you down
to her place near the river
you can hear the boats go by
you can spend the night beside her

At what point in the song do you set up the fireworks?

Well… you could. Why not?

Who was lip-synching? And does anyone care? Apparently Pink was not, even while drenched, hanging upside down from her silks. Beyonce looked to me like she synched. It’s pretty safe to assume that most pop/rock artists do. But I wish they would tell you before and during the performance. If you’re not ashamed of it, why hide it?

The Who did not appear to lip-synch their Superbowl appearance. They sounded awful all by their lonesome selves. Did Pete Townsend, 40 years ago, ever dream he would be doing a medley of his hits in front of 100 million people? A medley! I’m guessing that this appearance isn’t going to do much for their careers.

No longer hoping to die before he gets old.

 

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Janet Jackson’s Nipple

Apparently the exposure lasted about 9/16 of a second. Janet Jackson’s breast.

Not very long– you would think. But long enough to require a stern response from the guardian of public morals, the Bush Administration’s FCC.

Meanwhile, prime-time television continues to broadcast an unending stream of knifings, shootings, beatings, and torture. All shown tastefully, of course, so as to not cause offense. “24” tells us that torture works: the bad guys immediately tell the truth, even when the torturer has no idea what the truth is and, well, will just have to take the victim’s word for it because there is no time to lose.

This may sound strange, but was it ever so clear that the U.S. government wants to encourage young people to enjoy depictions of violence and abuse and hatred? By all means– let’s prepare our youth for a world in which we will ask them to kill and torture and destroy on behalf of our national interest. Of course it does. Think about all the episodes of “24” and “Lost” and “Dexter” which incurred not the slightest censure or approbation of the U.S. federal government: torture may not be nice but sometimes it’s the only way to find out if someone is hiding an inhaler (“Lost”, Season 1). The government pats TV on the head: that’s cute. It’s nice that our children learn to regard sadistic serial killers as redeemable if they only focus their efforts on suspected criminals (“Dexter”). The audience is assured– as it can never be in real life– that the victim deserved it.

Actually, shows like “Dexter” encourage you to feel that it is right and good to commit the same atrocity we find so reprehensible when committed by our enemies. Even for someone who is a little inured to the raging hypocrisies of television, this show reaches a new level of nauseating deviance: Dexter, a psychopathic serial killer, is actually heroic. I don’t understand why, even in post-9/11 America, there has not been a furious outcry about this show.

And it’s cute that the authorities torture people because, of course, then they instantly tell the truth, as on “24”. How does Jack know it’s the truth? The only possible explanation is that he read the script; there is nothing in the set of facts supplied to us by the story that would justify his belief that he has now heard “truth” and that the victim is not just saying whatever he thinks will make the torture stop;.

And I’m not sure “children” doesn’t include the infantile half of the U.S. population that regard it as their birthrate to carry guns and drive Hummers and biggie-size their fries if they damn well feel like it.

But one thing that cannot be permitted: the sight of a woman’s breast! As at the 2004 Super Bowl. For 9/16th of a second, as determined by a lower court. Our children will imagine the sickening, disgusting things that are done to a woman’s breast, like kissing and caressing and fondling and suckling!

Since it is scientifically proven that children imitate what they see on TV, this must be stopped, at all costs. CBS must be fined $500,000 or more to ensure that they won’t do it again. America will be pure again, and safe for Rush Limbaugh.

 

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Michael Powell and Janet Jackson’s Breast

The FCC does not fine television networks very often or for very large amounts.

So think about all the indecent things you have seen on TV in the past two years.

You have seen incredibly powerful corporations advertise sugar-coated cereals to children seven years old or younger.

You have seen decapitations, stabbings, gunshot wounds, amputations, rapes, burns, slashes, and strangling.

Nope. Nothing offensive there. Nothing there that could be construed as a threat to the moral fabric of the nation.

You’ve seen cheer-leading network eunuchs swallow whole the bilious lies and distortions of a government justifying a war it had no business starting and now has no clue about ending and which has resulted in the kidnappings, tortures, and murders of thousands of innocent civilians. Nothing “indecent” there.

You’ve seen programs in which the police are shown, approvingly, beating up, abusing, and terrorizing suspects in order to extract confessions from them. Of course, these suspects are then always shown to be guilty– not like that soldier shot by the cop in Los Angeles, or Amadou Diallo, or any of these others. Is society threatened by entertainment that teaches us that police brutality is usually justified and almost always rewarding? No.

But in February 2004, the moral health of America was threatened with such pernicious and devious audacity that Colin Powell’s son– head of the FCC– leapt to his feet and immediately took drastic and decisive action. America must not be permitted to see a woman’s breast, not even for a second!

You know what a breast is, don’t you? You may have seen one yourself, if you were ever a nursing baby, a married man, or even a lucky teenager. In fact, a quick study of television and magazines would lead a reasonable person to conclude that America doesn’t think that there is anything they want to see more than a woman’s breast. Americans spend billions of dollars every year improving and enlarging their breasts. Breast cancer survivors raise money for research by posing– topless– for calendars. You pretty well can’t be a singer or actress or entertainer of any kind unless you have large ones.

So Michael Powell, speaking most deeply from beneath his cloak, has fined CBS — get this!– $550,000!

The naked breast appeared during a performance in which Justin Timberlake and Janet Jackson gyrated and danced around on stage simulating incredibly passionate levels of sexual arousal and desire for each other. Timberlake sang, “I’m gonna have you naked by the end of this song.”

This is what America paid to watch. It’s what the promoters of the Superbowel paid to show. It’s what every radio station in America promotes every day: songs about sexual desire. It’s what makes “Friends” funny, and Paris Hilton rich. It’s why competitors in “Fear Factor” wear bikinis. It’s the engine of the entertainment economy. It’s why National Geographic is read by adolescent boys.

The breast was indecent? The most indecent thing about this entire sorry episode is the overwhelming obscenity of people like Michael Powell having the power to determine what is “obscene”. What on earth does he think will happen in a person’s mind when he sees a woman’s breast?

What happened in his mind?

June 22, 2011:

Be it noted– the most “Tivo-ed” moment in television history is… the Janet Jackson Superbowl breast exposure. Okay, so while the FCC decided that Janet Jackson’s breast was the most offensive and shocking thing on TV this year, the public has decided that it was the thing they most wanted to see. CBS should have appealed this to the Supreme Court.

Well… maybe not. Clarence Thomas? Antonin Scalia? Samuel Alito?

Forget it.

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The Rolling Stones at the Superbowl

Let me get this straight:  the NFL wants to provide a half-time show that will attract the coveted 18-25 demographic– free-spending young adults who like geriatric rock stars, apparently. Would these people like to watch the Olsen Twins? No. Jessica Simpson? Well, all right– the meaning of “wholesome” has changed a bit. I know– we’ll get The Rolling Stones. Hey, aren’t they a bunch of perverts? Of course they are.

While simultaneously announcing that they have booked a filthy, disgusting, perverted band for the half-time show (by their standards, not mine), the promoters, the NFL, assures viewers that the entertainment will be quite wholesome. Suitable for the entire family. You won’t be embarrassed if your kids are watching. But your kids will want to watch.

Is this belated recognition of the fact that any interesting culture in our society seems to come from rebels and outsiders? Why on earth didn’t they book Garth Brooks or Tammy Wynette, if they wanted something wholesome?

How will the promoters ensure that the audience is spared anything shocking or inappropriate? They will have a five-second delay on the broadcast.

And it worked. During “Start Me Up” (the real obscenity here is that “Start Me Up” was sold to Microsoft as the theme for Windows 98 for millions of dollars), Mick Jagger alluded to the fact that this woman of whom he was singing was so sexy that she could cause a dead man to become aroused. But not in so many words. So the microphone went dead and Mick’s lips moved alone and silently.

All right. Everybody’s happy. The kids get to be entertained by the world’s greatest rock’n’roll band, and the adults get to sleep easy knowing that their children are still infused with good, wholesome, Calvinist virtues.

But the Rolling Stones, worried about their credibility with the in crowd, announce that they are disgusted with the censorship. But the NFL announces that if they were so disgusted with the censorship, why did they agree to play in the first place? The Rolling Stones respond, just because we knew about it in advance and agreed to it doesn’t mean we don’t think it’s stupid. Pay us first, then we’ll tell you how stupid it is.

The answer is: all of the above.

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Janet Jackson at the Superbowl

Did you see it? You probably missed it. You were probably in the bathroom.

At the end of Janet Jackson’s rather sorry spectacle of a circus of a fireworks extravaganza of incredibly self-indulgent excessive spatter-fest of over-wrought writhing orgiastic dancers and musicians– her boob popped out. In fact, it appeared as though Justin Timberlake pulled off one of her leatherette little shields and there it was. CBS remarkably cut the camera within a second or two. Maybe there was a slight delay available to them– you know, whatever they call it, when they reserve to themselves a slight cushion of time just in case someone like Janet Jackson, on nationwide tv, does something inappropriate.

So you are mom. You’re watching the half-time show because, Lord knows, you can’t stand to watch football. Your kids are watching too. They are Janet Jackson fans. The dancers wear costumes inspired by S & M fantasies. They gyrate and move in motions meant to suggest intercourse. You smile and continue your knitting. They are singing something about being naked for you or whatever. Doesn’t matter. You nod and shake your head– modern music. Then it happens. You leap up and cover your children’s eyes. If you were fast enough, you may have spared them a life-time of deviance and sexual perversion. They might not have realized that they had seen Janet Jackson’s breast.

The opening act for this bizarre annual ritual– the Superbowl– was Aerosmith. Hoo hah. There are tail-gate parties, which they also have at state prisons on the nights they are going to execute people.

Steve Tyler himself. Most young football fans yearned for his daughter, Liv. Liv, ridiculously, played a psychiatrist in one of Jim Carrey’s most earnest and preposterous movies, “Reign Over Me”.

Then Beyonce sang the national anthem, with all the heartfelt authority and sincerity Hollywood can muster. Then 40 grown men pumped to preposterous proportions by steroids (professional football does not test anybody for anything except marijuana) chase each other over a 100 yard field trying to retrieve an oblong object made of pigskin. This crowd cheers wildly.

There are 100 commercials. They watch the commercials (that’s why they cost an average of $2.5 million– they do watch.) They think, I will be happy if I have some Pepsi. I will download legally. I will have an erection. Most of these people would say they are Christians. In God’s name, I have no clue what they think they are talking about.

There is approximately 10 seconds of action for 20 minutes of commercials, inane chatter, Janet Jackson’s breast, Steve Tyler’s tongue, and American flags.

The audience, apparently, has what they want– the ratings for Superbowl games are great. These people are American voters. Not only are they choosing the type of costume they want Janet Jackson to wear, but they are also choosing the next government of Iraq and the future of the Israel-Palestinian peace plan. Janet Jackson and Justin Timberlake apologized about the breast.

Both of their careers, however, have been enhanced. There is no such thing as bad publicity.