I was a couple hours into a pretty serious pot cookie by the time the Superbowl XFCVGFLI halftime show started. To the point where I couldn't make sense of things fast enough to tweet about them--it was just one increasingly crazy thing after another, the whole room here pretty much going nuts--and so resorted to just retweeting my smarter, more together friends. (On that note, you should also read Maura's post over at the Village Voice.) The pot cookie wore off (after the usual Sunday night sinkhole of dread), but one might reasonably still be trying to make sense of the whole spectacle this morning. The whole gladiators+cheerleaders+religion=football thing makes sense (hat tip to Paul Pearson for pointing that one out), but other questions remain:
Is vogueing at the Superbowl a most righteous queering of macho sports or just part of a rich history of cultural appropriation that runs from Madonna's snap queens on down to, well, M.I.A?
Why did LMFAO have a prop Pioneer CDJ? (Justice tribute? A reference to Redfoo's legendary turntablism skills?)
What was the deal with that slack-lining Grecian Bob Ross weed hallucination dude?
Shouldn't average Americans be used to rich people giving them the finger by now?
Why did Madonna fall through a trap door?
Couldn't they think of anything more banal than "World Peace"?
These are all nitpicks, of course, because the most important thing is that that show BLEW MY FRAGILE LITTLE MIND. So awesome.