Half of the time
Half time! The first 30 minutes (91 in real time) have not been good to the Broncos, what with just about everything going wrong that could. Right now, they’re down by (only) 22 points, and there’s a musical interlude with Bruno Mars to distract the country. Might take (a lot) more than that.
As usual with an American sporting event, everything is larger than life. The girl on the horse leading the team onto the field. The military on full alert. The commercials. THE COMMERCIALS! We got the real ones, this year, and they were worth the price of the tickets. I know, I didn’t pay for the tickets, but I could have. Regis, the King, did. Missed the Carnaval crowning so he could be there.
At my place, we’ve got curried pork and two dogs to entertain us with the constant vying for attention (and food). Mainly food. Pardon me… I’m going to hit pause for a few minutes.
(The real half time) consists of a James Brown tribute serving as an into for the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Not much content. Flea rocks, though!
And now back to our regularly scheduled rout.
This is Groundhog Day, and I’ve never made a secret of my love for our undeclared national holiday. Seriously. Is there any question more important to a citizen of the Great White North, than “When will winter withdraw”? No need for it to end; the north should stay ice-covered. Think of the polar bears. But if we can get back to sneakers and shorts, locally…
