Monday, February 05, 2007

The Super Bowl Suck-Ass, and other musical insights

OK, I guess everyone knows that the horrible weather in Miami contributed to the severe ass kicking Chicago underwent at the hands of those girly-men in their pretty blue and white uniforms the Colts. Give us your ice, your sleet, your wind chill factors yearning to give us frostbite ... but for God's sake, don't expect good football if it's warm and rainy, because warm and rainy? Is for Sports Illustrated swimsuit issues. Not football.

And that's it. Since I didn't watch the game, I'm not prepared to comment any further.

See, I was going to miss the beginning of the game, because I had to head over to the cathedral to sing an Evensong service with a visiting choir, so I got my husband to tape the game for me. And since, when I got home, the Bears were already losing, I figured I'd watch the taped game only if the Bears won. I have suffered through enough nail-biting hysteria over Bulls playoffs and Cubs and White Sox games. No way was I going to undergo this after a long day of singing church music. So ... that's three hours of my life I don't need to waste.

Of course, I'll still check out my sexy little boyfriend in the half-time show. Even though my culturally-deprived children have never even heard of the guy. Which has me contemplating disowning the ignorant halfwits. Honestly! What are my tax dollars being spent on? Football squads? What's really needed in this household is Music Appreciation 101. They've heard of Michael Jackson. And Blondie. And for all I know, Boy George. So what have they got against my 80s dreamboat?

You know that scene in School of Rock where Jack Black diagrams the history of electric guitar on the blackboard? Something like that is called for.

Oh, and speaking of '80's music, I think I have finally seen the last person visiting this place looking for my karaoke version of the Super Bowl Shuffle. Which lately, totally blasted my hit counter through the roof. I'd even get emails asking for the an mp3 of the track. Gee folks, I'd have loved to have helped, but I couldn't find it, because that happened about three computers ago. And now I'm glad I didn't. One request was from a D.J. in Indianapolis. For all I know, they'd be making up insulting lyrics about the Bears. Or playing it during their victory parade, those Hoosier bastards.

In other musical news, the Evensong was so bad it was embarrassing. Luckily for us, a choir of 60 voices, there were only 20 people in the congregation. You know, it really cuts down on the crowding when you're singing a service on Super Bowl Sunday. The fact that it was 0 degrees Fahrenheit, -32 Celsius didn't help any, either.

5 comments:

  1. Hi! I've been reading your blog for a couples weeks now, but didn't realize you were in Illinois, too. Are you in Chicago?*

    You didn't miss much with the game last night, or even the commercials -- all were pretty lame.

    * p.s. I'm not a stalker

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  2. Yes, Miss Pretending Not to Be a Stalker, I am in Chicago.

    Well, not exactly at the moment. Right now I'm sitting up in bed, drinking tea and looking with revulsion at a light but steady snowfall that will make the drive from Newtopia into Chicago less pleasant than usual.

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  3. Not likely to see the choir at Our Little Local Cathedral any time soon then ?

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  4. Well, next summer we'll be performing in St. George's Chapel, Windsor Castle, Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's Cathedral, and then in Paris at Durufle's parish church. But not, alas, at your little local cathedral.

    And I don't know how we'll manage to sing in these great barns ... we're in a cathedral, but it looks as though Durham could pick up St. James, wad it up, and stuff it into its pocket.

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  5. Prince was very nice to look at and listen to. There were only two of us in the room who fully appreciated him...what do they teach the youth of America?

    And so true about the commercials--so not worth watching.

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Gentle Readers:

For the time being, I've turned off comment moderation. Please don't spam; it's not nice.

xxx, Poppy.