Today, sadness overshadows me. Most of you have never seen me sad. When you review my, “About Me” section at the end of this blog, you will see the statement, “I am simply too blessed to be stressed.” And that is certainly true. Most times I am not sad. I strive to be a happy person.
Each day, as I swing my slightly overweight body out of bed, feet touching the carpet before I test the will of those old and creaky knees, soon to be outdated, I always say three words.
Thank you, Lord!
Most of the time I follow up my conversation with him with many reasons I am thankful. But you get the picture. And these words almost always fill me with inspiration, and I produce blissful thoughts, with intentions of spreading well intended wishes to others.
But today…sadness is my shadow.
I remember the very first Super Bowl. They played it January 15, 1967. The Green Bay Packers defeated the Kansas City Chiefs 35-10. I was thirteen years old. I was a die-hard Dallas Cowboys fan, but was pulling for the Packers, since I won a Green Bay Packers jacket in a Punt, Pass and Kick contest and wanted bragging rights.
Al Hirt, and the University of Arizona and Grambling State University bands performed the halftime show. I never saw the show. I was outside throwing the football high in the air, pretending I was Green Bay quarterback, Bart Starr. As the ball sailed through the air, I became flanker Boyd Dowler as I ran under that pass, caught it, and ran forty yards for the touchdown. The crowd went wild.
But wait! We had to make the extra point to win the game. I made yet another transition to kicker Don Chandler. The snap was back. Bart Starr placed the ball on the tee. The Chiefs came crashing in to block that kick. They were shouting at the young kicker, trying to intimidate him. The kick was up. The referees threw two hands in the air. The kick was good! I had just won the Super Bowl. The crowd went wild!
“Ronnie, the second half is about to start,” mom shouts, waking me from my make-believe world, as I made a bee line inside to see the kickoff, and watch my hero’s play the game they loved.
Fast forward fifty-three years. I’m watching the big game with friends. We are all sitting in media room movie theatre chairs, eighty-four-inch television, speakers all around us, producing all the sights and sounds of the game in every luxury imaginable. One of my friends has his two sons, ages twelve and eight, sitting beside him. He is a good father. The teams are putting on a competitive match. All is good.
Then came the half time show.
I guess the definition of good, for Super Bowl half time shows will always be subjective. For me, some of my favorites were, in no particular order, Gloria Estefan, Paul McCartney, Katy Perry, Bruno Mars and Beyoncé.
Many people say U2 performed the most impactful performance in January of 2002, in the first Super Bowl after 9/11.
I could never turn down Michael Jackson’s performance as the best, but I must say, I REALLY liked Lady Gaga. And before you Prince lovers jump on me, I simply have to say, I don’t care for Prince, but he did do some entertaining at his show.
While she did not do the half time show, Whitney Houston’s rendition of the National Anthem in 1991 still gives me chill bumps to this day. If the ending of that song does not rank as the strongest voice of all times in your book, then I’d like to hear someone do it better.
So, you can see, I love my music. I respect good entertainment. And I am not a prude. I work hard staying cool.
So here goes…. I know I am not in the majority when I say this….and I’m about to move into the ranks of a crotchety old fa**!
In my opinion, a stripper pole does NOT belong on a national stage in front of a wide range of young people. There is not one thing good that anyone can say about a stripper pole. Right? Test me on this. Please give me ONE good thing about a stripper pole.
“Oh, she has a great body,” some say.
So, what! Does that make a stripper pole right? Not by a long shot.
“That is so hard to do. She is so talented!”
Again, I say, SO WHAT! Lose the stripper pole!!!
I felt bad for my friend who had his twelve year and eight-year-old sons watching this trash.
Some of you are saying I remember you when…. There was a time when you would have liked that pole.
SO, WHAT! Stripper Poles have no place ANYWHERE!!!
What part of gyrating your body while making that face do young women think is sexy?
In great shape for fifty? Double yes!
Proud to see two Latino women on stage at the Super Bowl? Yes.
Stripper pole and raunchy moves? NEVER.
Why do women think they have to pole dance and hunch in almost zero clothes to get a man?
In my mind, females as a gender took several steps backwards Sunday night. Gals, you don’t have to do that. Want to be taken seriously? Want equality? That’s NOT the way to do it.
I believe Sunday nights line was pushed as far as they could push it. I’m not sure anyone can go any further than pole dancing and suggestive movements.
“Ronnie, the halftime show is about to begin. Wanna come inside and watch these mostly naked ladies’ gyrate and perform on a stripper pole?” words that would not come out of ANY mother’s mouths in 1967, but get the seal of approval from the majority in 2020.
Fast forward to 2020. Today, I’ve heard very few mothers and women in general condemn this female degrading halftime show. In fact, most are declaring it the greatest show ever.
We are so desensitized that we believe pole dancing, hunching and highly suggestive clothing is okay for eleven-year old’s to not only see, but take part in.
We justify our thinking by saying eleven-year old’s see worse than this in other places. Well that makes me even sadder!
Eleven-year-old girls see these two performers as their role models.
I’m sad for women.
I’m sad for humanity.