So don't expect me to get all wet in the tighty whities over this Sunday's Super Bowl (Fox, Feb 6, 3:30 pm). I have no idea who's playing, and I have no interest in knowing. To me, they're all the same; a bunch of steroid-enhanced thugs who can only express their utter lack of heterosexuality by grabbing each other's ass on the sidelines. HOWEVER! The one thing worth watching during the Super Bowl has always been, and will always be, the "halftime show." Naturally, last year's will be practically impossible to top. When Justin Timberlake ripped Janet Jackson's nipple pad off, it was the tit seen 'round the world--and nothing is more hilarious than watching red-faced, blustering Christians cry like a bunch of goddamn babies when their false sense of morality is violated.
But unfortunately, because of JJ's striptease, the network goons are intent on making this year's Super Bowl halftime show more boring than ever. So instead of featuring a performer spectators can actually give a shit about, the NFL has chosen possibly the worst performer in the history of the world, PAUL FAWKING McCARTNEY! Regardless of the fact the Beatles fawking SUCKED, McCartney is now so old, he'll be lucky if he can shuffle out to the 50-yard line and dump the contents of his colostomy bag!
So in a misguided attempt to appease a bunch of trailer-trash Christians, the NFL has removed the most important aspect of halftime entertainment--and that's ENTERTAINMENT! I say, give these redneck, maladjusted country bumpkins what they really want: a little halftime show I like to call, "A Salute to Abu Ghraib!" In this star-spangled production, actual Iraqi prisoners of war are trotted out onstage to participate in a few song-and-dance numbers where they're forced to stand on a bucket holding electrical wires, or--if you prefer--masturbate. Meanwhile, Pvt. Lynndie England will join country music sensation Toby Keith in a patriotic duet entitled, "USA Kicks A-double-S! (Die, Iraqi fags, die!)."
And… I don't know… maybe a number from American Idol runner-up Clay Aiken? (Hey, somebody has to get hung from a flagpole by his jock strap!)