Off the keyboard of William Hunter Duncan
Originally published at Off the Grid in Minneapolis
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God made an appearance, during the Super Bowl fiesta, did you see that?
Or was that the devil everywhere? I’m not sure anymore, between the two, but then, there’s football to think about, so, all’s good.
I mean, what a dramatic game! A very dramatic Super Bowl – with even a game shifting power outage, following an astounding halftime show; WHAT TECH! And Beyonce’ “killed” it (which for you old timers, is a euphemism for “totally rocked”). I found myself totally cheering for the 49’ers, for old time’s sake, amazed at the strength and accuracy of the arm, of the young man Kaepernick – who, check it out, wrote a letter when he was a kid that he wanted to play in the Super Bowl for the 49ers! Flacco and the Ravens showed extreme poise, and unified vision. The brothers angle was special too, the two opposing head coaches (between whom there is enough antipathy that they could not even embrace after the game.) The ending was a drag, literally, a weird non-call on the last play from scrimmage for the 49ers, and then the punter for the Ravens running around in the end zone, but on the whole it was a great game, and Ray Lewis finally got his title.
As for God, He showed up early, before the game, just like He always does. Ray Lewis gave an interview. Among other things, asked about the man he supposedly killed 13 years ago. To paraphase, “God is perfect, and He wouldn’t ever let a man who could have done what was accused of me, to accomplish what I’ve accomplished.” After which, it was revealed that the interview was recorded before it was revealed that he had used a banned pharmaceutical to heal more quickly from a triceps injury.
Kaepernick called out God’s name too, though Colin compared to Ray Lewis, seems a genuine “babe in the woods,” though it might not seem that way to conservative America, what with all those tatoos. FAITH being most prominent on the golden biceps he is so fond of kissing. Too bad though, God showed up for the bad guy, this time.
Beyonce’ called out to God too, from that fabulous stage. She seemed classy about it too, IMO, thanking the audience at the end, some 111 million Americans, for the opportunity. What an opportunity! One wonders, or at least I do, what would have happened had she called out to the Goddess, instead. LOL. The horror of it.
The devil was more prominent in the commercials. He appeared as Willem Dafoe, for Mercedes (did anyone else notice the Mercedes emblem hovering over it all, at the peak of the Superdome?), and several times, as Stevie Wonder/witchdoctor/Bud Light pimp. There was plenty of mayhem, as Kunstler pointed out:
Did anyone notice how violent and psychotic the Superbowl advertising
was this year? An Oreo commercial that depicted a mob of nerds
destroying a library — huh? The Doritos spot where “Daddy” and his
male buddies transform themselves into an insane clown posse of
cross-dressers. The Fast and Furious 6 trailer featuring the
destruction of every vehicle known to man and a few office buildings,
too. The third-quarter power failure was a neat harbinger of
things-to-come in the Most Exceptional United States of America. Party
The coup de grace’ did not actually come, until after the game, a contrived Elementary strip tease, and then the slaughter of two doctors, two nurses and a policeman, shot in the head, and throats slit. I only saw three people die the rest of that show, shot in the head and stabbed in the neck, though I never finished watching it. Sometime much later, I caught three minutes of a CSI episode, a middle class woman chained to a bed, mouth covered with duct tape – close-up on her face as she is stabbed to death with an ice pic – her death-image repeated about 50 times in the next 2 minutes, spasmodically.
I have a few theories about that power outage. I didn’t actually know until almost game time, that the game was being played in the New Orleans Superdome. I didn’t want to be a downer during the game, so I didn’t mention all the people who died in that building, post-Katrina. The first thing out of my mouth when the power went out was, “The ghost of Katrina rises!” Or ghosts. It might have been intentional too: the lights out in HALF the building. Notice, the 49er’s were 3rd and 14, down 28-6, early in the third quarter. That’s a lot of advertising that isn’t going to be watched ($), and another 34 minutes of downtime to show them. It worked, great. DHS is sure to make use of the power outage, too, in their propaganda to take over the internet. Maybe it was God though, maybe it was, a little harbinger of what is to come, like Kunstler says.
After the game, I went to a local bar with my brother in law. The ending of that Elementary show was on the TV, the psychotic killer of nurses and doctors in some nice apartment, in a battle of wits with the protagonist, Holmes. Rather than follow along with the captioning, I started talking to the guy next to me, about the tv show, and how weird it was there was so much violence, immediately following the game. He started analyzing it in a sort of comatose and not necessarily overly-drunken way, like, why was it necessary to kill those nurses, as if those first two dead health care professional/doctors and police man made sense, dramatically speaking – identifying with the mass murderer, without really knowing he was doing it. He wasn’t a bad guy; banal would be the word, eating up a “morality” tale on the relative righteousness of revenge killing/psychopathic slaughter. Which there seems to me a great many like him. People who don’t think very well, basically, inured to the imagery of violence. For instance, I hear some hesitatingly harsh talk today about the extreme sexuality of Beyonce’s performance. Violence, on the other hand, is being discussed on NPR right now as I write this, with about as much detached apprehension as that everyman at the bar. If I had to say, what is TV about, after last night’s foray, myself not watching TV very often, I’d say it’s more and more about training people to be killers, clinical like.
So, stepping into the archetype of the raving mystic, for a moment, making a Prophecy, my take-away from Super Bowl XLVII (you might want to avert your eyes):
Ravens will pick from the bones of the dead,
before the descendents of flower children shall rise;
with gold and precious metals, to make a new way
to communicate freely, or to enslave,
or be enslaved if they are not wary