Football-watching faghags of the world, rejoice!
For the rest of us, the prospects of Madonna, 53-year-old transvestite and upmost practitioner of the fake British accent, gracing the field at venerable Lucas Oil Field for the now un-important Super Bowl 2012 halftime show should not be as terrifying as it seems.
If youâ€™re a dude – or a really cool chick – then youâ€™re either too busy getting hammered, stuffing your gourd full of chicken fingers, taking a leak, reading Ulysses, doing your taxes, or any other multitude of minutia instead of frying the synapses of your brain matter by watching any halftime show, let alone one featuring a washed-up croneÂ that hasnâ€™t had a hit record in almost twenty years and who is also responsible for unleashing some of the worst cinematic septic waste this side of Adam Sandler.
So why complain? Whenâ€™s the last time you actually watched a Super Bowl halftime?
The last halftime show I had the pleasure of witnessing, while not taking place at the Super Bowl itself but nonetheless worthy of a spot in the Super Bowl of public fiascos, was Ashlee Simpsonâ€™s transcendent 2005 Orange Bowl performance. On the level of shear vocal strength and emotion, I can only rank Janis Joplinâ€™s set at the 1967 Monterrey Pops festival as a better example of live vocals by a female artist.
So break out your copy of Sex, fire up the Shanghai Surprise, and wear your bra on the outside of your clothing, â€˜cause weâ€™re gonna do this shit like itâ€™s 1989.