Up in Ontario

Sausage Party Apology

Because of Punditry and the Sound of My Own Voice, I generally avoid writing posts for this blog similar to the types of posts seen on many other blogs: posts about what is happening in the mediasphere at that particular moment. But here is an exceptions.

In the elaborate cover-our-assathon that commentary on the Super Bowl half time concert has become, has anyone else noticed that it's basically a bunch of old white guys appalled at the exposure of a black woman's breast? The apologia has reached quite a bleating pitch, each honkey trying to wag their wrinkled finger and shake their shaggy head harder than the last. What are they so worried about? It was her breast. Have they not seen the pole dancers with pom poms that grace the sidelines at every game?

NFL Commish Paul Tagliabue called the incident: "offensive, inappropriate and embarrassing to us and our fans. We will change our policy, our people and our processes for managing the halftime entertainment in the future in order to deal far more effectively with the quality of this aspect of the Super Bowl." How about not subjecting viewers to watching two fat men with oversized cuff links play out their school yard fantasies from wing-backed stadium seating? Football is trivial, tribal escapism. Don't confront us with the roman, gladatorial reality of its ownership structure. It's offensive, inappropriate and embarassing to be a fan.

FCC chairman Michael Powell: "Like millions of Americans, my family and I gathered around the television for a celebration. Instead, that celebration was tainted by a classless, crass and deplorable stunt. Our nation's children, parents and citizens deserve better." Um, okay, no argument here. So no more classless, crass an deplorable stunts on TV?

I'm sorry Miss Jackson, I just had to say it.

Of the three people in the room where I watched the Super Bowl, two missed the flash and the other wasn't sure exactly what they'd seen. We had to look on the Internet to find out what had happened. And in doing so, it struck me that the web has become a type of collective memory devoid of context and narrative; just a bunch of bits where you the reader/viewer have to put together your own story.

So what did you see?