The Super Bowl is Not Tupperware

No, The Super Bowl isn't a new piece of Tupperware

Pigskin Although the Super Bowl holds minimal interest to me (Go, Giants!), the event as a major focus of national, even worldwide attention, interests me. The ads get great coverage, particularly in light of the fact that so large an audience will be reached with them in the telecast. The caliber of broadcast production, play-by-play, and even the actual game itself are issues of great debate and post mortem. The media and marketing tie-ins are usually a hoot: "Official Laxative of Super Bowl 35" and other such inanities.

Last year Susan decided to watch the game. Well, better put, to watch the commercials, and read the Times during the actual game. This year Susan slept through the game, recovering from helping out with her sister's twins and five year-old most of yesterday and today.

My children were tuned in this year. My son has taken an interest in the sport of late, so he wanted to see the big game. A born-New Yorker, currently living in "Pantherland" (where the biggest football news is about the Carruth trial), he wants to see the Giants win. Last I heard from him, as we messaged each other while on-line during the game, was that the Giants' defense had been failing, and Baltimore was running away with the game. Literally and figuratively.

My daughter allowed the first Half to flow past her eyes as she did other things with the TV on, waiting for the Half Time Show. Nsync was the entertainment, so she was glued to the set for that part of the festivities. Since she planned to get to bed sometime around 9PM tonight, I imagine she turned off CBS when Nsync was done.

There's always an MVP in these games. He gets a trophy, maybe some money if that's a contract spiff, and might be the guy to do the "I'm going to Disneyland!" spot. What I want to know is why not stop calling it the MVP, and, in keeping with the "Super" Bowl theme, just call the guy this year's Superman?

It's a bird, it's a plane, it's the MVP of the Super Bowl!

The window by my computer overlooks a main thoroughfare, and there's been almost no traffic this evening. I guess most of the people who travel this road are home (or at a Super Bowl Party somewhere), watching the game.

Susan's brother, who is a baseball fan, told her Friday that he and his wife and their very adorable baby were going to a Super Bowl party. "You're a football fan?" she asked him, thinking this was not the case. "No," he explained, "but it is a good excuse to pig out on some junk food." Turns out that most of the people at this party, including the hosts, aren't football fans at all. But they are indulging in the great American tradition of stuffing themselves with gunk and junk on this official garbage ingestion weekend.

1. Remember to always burp the tupperware container.<br />
2. Didja hear the one about the Tupperware Lady who....Much junk food is plunked into, stored in, or carried to parties, in Tupperware. I knew, somehow, Super Bowl and Tupperware went together.

Based On A Novel About A Man Named Lear

For the past few days there's been a tune playing in my head. Sometimes it is loud, most of the time it is like a faint but recognizable track in the background, not too different from hearing music coming from the next apartment, the apartment downstairs, or the next car. What song? Paperback Writer, by The Beatles. If you want to hear the song, click here. Now maybe it'll go on repeat play in your head, too.

Why has paperback Writer been clanging around my head? I don't really know. Haven't heard it recently, nor thought of it.

HOWEVER, if you give it some contemplationÖthe same syllables, same cadence and inflectionÖswitched from "Paperback Writer" to Look!  It is the SUPER BOWL, placed right here on Super Bowl Sunday!!!!!Ö it works just fine. And so I've been hearing Super Bowl Sunday, with that great bass line and drumbeat for days, now. The Super Bowl will be history on Monday. Here today, gone tomorrow, except on Sports Talk Radio and in the Sports Section of newspapers. The next big deal is Valentine's Day.

No problem, then, if I end up hearing Miles Davis' rendition of My Funny Valentine as the next "heavy rotation in the brain jukebox" tune. thump   thump   thump   thump   thump
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