I’m sure you’ve had enough of Super Bowl chatter by now, with the two weeks leading up to the game, the game itself, the parties and bars, next day hangovers, and calling in sick, right? Well, I felt the need to throw one last Super Bowl XLV rant at ya. My regular listeners and readers should know where I’m going with this, given the fact that I routinely deride the one known simply as Fergie.
With that said, I introduce my Super Bowl XLV Halftime rant!
For starters, we all knew that I wasn’t going into the halftime show with an open mind, but I attempted, for the sake of the show, to be slightly open minded at the beginning of the Black Eyed Peas performance. SIKE, that’s a lie. I can’t stand them, and I knew what to expect. And, from that perspective, they didn’t let me down. They were…in one word…MISERABLE.
Is that my bias showing? Perhaps, but I don’t think I’m alone in my disdain for their performance. Don’t believe me? Try your favorite search engine and read a few reviews, it’s a lot fun when you were waiting for the Peas to fail.
Where should I start?!?! How about the beginning with the Peas descending at snail’s pace from rafters? How original. Slash and Usher made better entrances and they were only there to accent the main act.
And what’s with the Tron meets Kiss lovebaby costumes. Is that the best they could do? Someone PLEASE make Fergie wear pants. I was worried her balls were gonna fall out, but I guess she has cryptorchidism, where the testicles don’t drop at birth. I kept thinking to myself, “Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day, Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day!”
Let me tell you something, the Split Peas could have the most amazing costumes in the world, and nothing is going to change the fact that they’re attractively-challenged. Seriously, could there be an uglier foursome?
From the get go, these pseudo-entertainers (YES, I love prefacing a word with pseudo, when necessary, so get used to it), these pseudo-entertainers looked like Dirk Diggler or the Tin Man, whichever paints a better picture for you.
On top of the stiffness, there wasn’t any energy…unless you count the flashing lights on the chest of the long-haired dude. I’ve seen documentaries on three-toed sloths with more enthusiasm than those four plastic passion-less wannabe entertainers.
The best part for me was when Slash came out of the ground, but, within seconds, he saw his shadow and left. For a second, <PAUSE…read this part SLOWLY and SOFTLY for effect> I thought perhaps this was the greatest coup ever, and Axl was going to save the underwhelming Peas with a GnR reunion, but then I remembered, this is Roger Goodell and the NFL, the No Fun League. Na-E-NaNa-Ja, not gonna happen here. Oh, and was Axl ever needed, even Axl 20-11, because Fergie was butchering Sweet Child. If she pulled that on American Idol, she wouldn’t have made it to Hollywood. “Yo, that was pitchy, Dog.”
And don’t get me started with the trendy auto-tune vocals. What a bunch of hacks masquerading as singers/rappers. If William needed that kind of help, he should look into a career change. The stuff they pretend to sing doesn’t require great vocals since they have studio help. And, if the Peas have access to auto-tuners, why wasn’t Fergie using one?
What else? I could berate the lyrical change to appeal to the King Hussein hope and change voters, but I really don’t want a headache, so I’ll let it go.
Some might say I’m ranting about Fergie and her Peas out of jealousy. Give it a rest, Joaquin. Would I sell out like the Peas? Hell yeah, in a New York minute. But the fact is, they did (and always have been), and I haven’t. They’ve got the cash, I don’t. And, in the meantime, they’re in the public eye, which allows the public, including me, to scrutinize them.
Here’s a question. Do you think the Peas will look back at this performance ten, fifteen, or twenty years from now and realize how ridiculous they looked and sounded? Me, I’m thinking probably not, especially with their egos. But then again, look at me, I’ve got nothing better to do on than rant for free, while the Peas are cashing in on a dumbed-down listening public, always eager to drop coin on talentless noise hucksters. Who’s the idiot?
Well, I’m outta breath, and I haven’t even mentioned Christina’s Aguilera yet! Save that for another time.
I’m Flex…and I’m right.