Bruno Mars to Host SuperBowl Half Time Show, World Recoils

POSTING BY JB MADDAWG

"Wow, Lenny Kravitz has really cleaned up"

“Wow, Lenny Kravitz has really cleaned up”

Superbowl XLVIII.  The world’s premiere sporting event is going to be held in scenic New Jersey amidst the smell of fuel oil and snow that looks like something Exxon would produce if they indeed held a small Slurpee company, strictly for tax write off purposes.  We get it, NFL.  The Superbowl! Now with realistic weather!  Whatever.

As if the venue wasn’t bad enough, NFL Commish Roger Goodell decided that the  Superbowl needed a half time show that would make sporting fans feel better about wasting fifteen minutes of life on a musician they’ve never heard of.  Gone are the days of mega acts of U2 and Aerosmith.  This year, Bruno Mars will most certainly reign in tens of more viewers between the ages of 14-19 as the mid game act.

What?  You’ve never heard of Bruno Mars?  Let me save you the trip to Wikipedia.  Just think of a younger Lenny Kravitz sans musical talent or dreadlocks yet wearing a fedora that would even make my dead grandfather say “what up with the jank looking lid, yo?”  Ok, I’m paraphrasing.  The fact remains:  Bruno Mars may impress all the hipsters that occupy the bar stools at the local Applebee’s trying to look trendy sipping a Redd’s Strawberry Ale, but for football fans, the Superbowl half time extravaganza will probably involve a restroom or maybe a quickie.  Perhaps both.  I’d venture to bet half the football fans in the country probably confuse Bruno Mars with a Sasha Baron Cohen character and of course are wondering why the blue hell he’s been hired to perform at the biggest sporting event on the planet.

Ah, but hosting Bruno Mars is.  The NFL is fully committed to boring fans out of their minds, yet the first two quarters of pro football will probably do the trick.  Or, the mere 16 hours of pre-game shows that will provide fans with the usual queries: “who’s the favorite to win the game”, “will the Superbowl be a blowout?” or the ever popular “why the hell does Shannon Sharpe look like a cross between a Shetland pony and a mailbox?”  Take note Superbowl party throwers, the most important beverage one can offer guests is coffee.  Really, really strong coffee.

Yet, as much as I bash Bruno Mars, things could certainly be far worse.  In what I call the Nickelback theory, a musical act may seem like the worst act to step on stage due to current opinion yet history proves this to just be untrue.  What? You doubt?  Let me back up the theory with musical acts that could have been worse than Bruno Mars:

The Starship reunion half time show:  Anyone that has lived through the early 1980’s should agree that the band Starship should never be heard from again.  Songstress Grace Slick may have been an audio maven in the 60’s and 70’s, but in the 80’s she could only be described as a crazed grandmother that redefined the word pitchy for a mass of tone-deaf fans.  Yeah, pretty bad.  Couple that with a “We Built This City/Nothin’s Gonna Stop Us Now” musical mash-up and the musical fail would have fans looking the like the zombies in World War Z clamoring for the exits.  Alas, I’m certain some corporate underling could convince Goodell this would be a great idea.  Someone’s always playing corporation games.  Who cares they’re always changing, corporation names.

The Spice Girls half time show:  I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want.  I never want to see another Spice Girl as long as I live.  They should be shunned from society and made to walk the ruins of desolate earth much like Max Von Sydow’s character in the original Judge Dredd.  Gaaa, yeah, the one with Stallone.  It was horrid.  I digress.  Most of the Spice Girls are just a disaster, the use of the word most is probably because no one has seen Baby Spice in about two decades so the jury’s out on her.  One thing was for sure with the Spice Girls: when they grouped together, it was like when the big robot from the cartoon Voltron constructed.  Only with really bad music and dancing.

Psy, the half time extravaganza:  I say extravaganza because how else could one describe a Korean man wearing comedian Rip Taylor’s purloined jacket doing the pony on stage for a full fifteen minute show?  My God, I’d rather be Rick-Rolled on the jumbo-tron for a quarter of an hour.  At least Rick Astley would spark a robust “is he a ginger or a redhead?” debate.  Seriously, though, Psy’s fifteen of fame are in the books so bumping him up to a half an hour  just seems wrong.

The Captain and Tennille half time show: Nothing says uncomfortable concert like a 70-year-old couple that just filed for divorce singing about rodents in love while one of said musicians wears a mock naval cap and playing a groove tone electric piano.  Just imagine the possibility of the stage fireworks setting off a cardiac arrest in either of the performers or worse yet, a denturepocalypse.  Does anyone really want to see their grandparents rocking out in a freezing open air stadium in February? They’d probably stop in mid-song to ask the maintenance staff to turn the heat up.  And bring down a nice pea coat or some slippers.  Love didn’t keep Cap and Tennille together, and we certainly don’t need to prove it by letting them perform in front of a half a billion people, worldwide.

John Tesh’s halftime show: Quick, describe John Tesh’s musical career without using the words “Red Rocks”.  If the NFL really wanted concession sales to skyrocket, they’d sign Tesh as the mid game entertainment.  Among Tesh’s stunning achievements: hosting Entertainment Tonight, playing backup keyboard for Yanni, and being a step-father to TV’s Buck Rogers’ offspring.  Don’t get me started on what a prick Gil Gerard is, seriously. Tesh tickling the ivories at a major venue?  If they sold pillows before the show, Goodell could afford to buy himself several more $38 dollar suits.

So, still thinking that Bruno Mars halftime event is “the worst ever”?  Of course he’s horrible.  He’s also appealing to the same people who hired Janet Jackson’s droopy left boob to spill out all over the Superbowl stage.  None of it matters anyway.  We’ll all be too busy texting friends and family about why Peyton Manning was hell-bent on making Omaha the most overrated city in the U.S. during the first half of play to watch Mars.

And just in case you still doubt me, just try to sit through all 4:57 of the aforementioned Starship’s magnum opus. I dare you.

About these ads

Leave a comment

Filed under Mishmosh Ranting, Music, Sports, Television

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s