The bullets were flying before the second half of the Superbowl had even begun. How, CBS executives wanted to know, could such a travesty have occurred? In a family broadcast, aired (in California, at least) in the dinner hour, whether through careless omission or malicious design, a terrible and tragic thing was allowed to happen. For the first time in Superbowl history. . . perhaps even in the entire history of the NFL, a halftime show had been broadcast that was entertaining!.
Worse: it had been sexy! In a sporting event intended to be dominated by the sight of grown men clutching at one another's ponderous, quivering, spandex-clad buttocks, a female breast had been displayed. Worse. . . oh, even worse than that. . . the breast had a nipple, and the nipple was pierced!
Heaven itself would have trembled, if the arena's ceiling had been left open. As if Kid Rock desecrating the Flag and saying "Methadone" wasn't enough of an affront, must Americans be subjected to the sight of Janet Jackson's nipple? At the whims of Justin Timberlake, of all people?
Needless to say, the phone lines were immediately deluged with complaints, CBS solemnly reported, from viewers shocked by the travesty. MTV, they intoned, would be "unlikely to be invited to produce a halftime show ever again."
Justin Timberlake was a picture of contrition, blaming a "wardrobe failure" for the "incident," as if the O-rings holding Jackson's outfit together had sequentially failed, or her bra-strap had been struck by a falling piece of insulation.
Viacom was unmollified, blaming MTV and ruing their inability to protect their helpless audience from a .3 second glimpse of Jackson's jiggly bits.
Who, I wonder, are these people who "flood the phone lines with complaints?" Do you have a phone number for CBS on hand? The vision that comes leaping to mind is a legion of crotchety old codgers, ever vigilant for a hint of tits, ass, or profanity, their arthritic hands poised and ready to dial like a striking lightning bolt of Jove.
Personally, I wish I'd had the foresight to get that number, whatever the hell it is, so that I could call them just as quickly to say, "Hey! Nice piercing! Bring MTV back next year!"
Actually. . . maybe that's a good idea in general. Call it the "Legion of Indecency." Every time there's some nudity, profanity, or sex on television, we could "flood the phone lines" with complements and thanks for all the awesome nudity.
Otherwise, these stupid network gits will never, ever learn. The sooner Viacom realizes that Janet Jackson's nipple is not a public safety threat, the better the likelihood that there may, possibly, some day, be a Superbowl halftime show worth watching.
posted by Proconsul at 3:30 PM
Nothing like not posting for a year to make me want to. . . post something. Like a brief statement about how I haven't posted for a year.
I'm working (I know- this is so original) on a novel that I'm trying to get into a first draft form. It's kind of a treatment of the quintessential Revolution, the way that Lord of the Rings was a treatment of the quintessential Just War. Odds are, it's never going to be finished, and if it *is* finished, it's probably going to suck.
Days like this make me wish I was a political fanatic of some sort. Fanatics have it made. They know what they believe in, and they know what they need to do.
Likewise drug addicts, come to think of it. There was a line about that in Trainspotting, something like, "Nothing brings mental clarity like a good, sincere addiction."
And religion. And gambling. And probably drinking.
Just my bad fortune to have pitiful *little* addictions that don't provide directions. It's like running a mosquito farm.
posted by Proconsul at 3:19 PM
