After a Fashion

SUPER BRAWL All right, I watched the Super Bowl. Yawn. Big yawn. I watched it with my mom, brother, and sister. I tried to concentrate on the game, but with my mom and my brother screaming at the TV, it was nerve-racking. Then my brother kept trying to explain the game to me. Yeah, I get it: Grown men throw balls at each other and get paid an obscene amount of money to do it. It's pretty simple, actually, and not unlike the Romans and the Christians of yesteryear. The target audience for the commercials was very clear: drooling boneheads with a taste for cheap beer, fast food, and cheap, fast women. Though I thought the LivingSocial commercial touting how it could "change your life" was pretty funny (even though I totally expect to hear cries of homophobia about it). And Adrien Brody for Stella Artois was pretty funny. What was not funny was Ozzy Osbourne and Justin Bieber. Loathe them both. And the crowds? Mercifully the camera did not dwell upon the crowds, except when they were waving yellow dish towels around for some unknown reason. At least we weren't subjected to lingering shots of overage children with their faces painted (or, worse, bellies) while waving large foam hands. I was truly mystified by the shots of the crowds in the cold watching the game on an enormous screen right outside the stadium. Wouldn't they have been more comfortable in their RVs with their official NFL tires (Bridgestone), eating their official NFL pizza (Papa John's) and wiping their asses with official NFL toilet paper (Charmin)? And who were all those people in yellow shorts on the sidelines? Offical NFL stylists? With the trend toward long hair on the playing field, I laughed to learn that if the hair sticks out that much, it's considered a part of the uniform and thus can be used to take a player down. And Head & Shoulders shampoo spokesmodel Troy Polamalu has his hair insured for a million dollars in case someone injures it. Please. I was badgered to pick a team to root for, but I had no favorite, so I picked the team that was losing (naturally) – because they were losing. Frankly, I did not care. On last Tuesday's OutCast on KOOP 91.7FM, when I explained to Stephen Rice that I was required to watch the Super Bowl so that I could intelligently discuss it (or not), many people suggested that I simply concentrate on the muscular young men in their spandex pants. But that was not enough to keep my interest. Besides, I was very concerned that even with all the padding and protection, none of these players were concerned about protecting their obviously unprotected genitals. You could practically tell who was circumsized and who was not. And how could I concentrate on anything with those commentators desperately trying to fill the air with relevant comments such as, "As a defensive coordinator, he has a lot of coordinating to do." Well, duh, isn't that what coordinators do? And then there was the halftime show with the Black Eyed Peas. All glitter and zero substance. Though I did like Christina Aguilera singing "The Star-Spangled Banner," the Super Bowl (and football in general) remains a complete mystery to me.

ZACH DOES IT AGAIN Despite the freezing temperatures, the groundbreaking for the new 420-seat Topfer Theatre at Zach went on as scheduled (albeit moved indoors) with a host of such local luminaries as Mort and Bobbi Topfer for whom the theatre is named, as well as Mayor Pro Tem Mike Martinez, James Armstrong, Larry Connelly, Council Member Randi Shade, Senator Jeff Wentworth, Eric and Maria Groton, Susan Lubin, and the new theatre's architects, Arthur Andersson and Chris Wise (who are also responsible for the new W Hotel), and many other Zach supporters. This new building takes Zach far beyond its community theatre roots, providing the opportunity to mount larger productions that can travel to other midsized theatres across the nation. Yay, Zach; we love you!

REALLY? The venerated house of Chanel is now seemingly in the condom business. Really. With simple white packaging featuring the famous double "C" logo, the wrapper reads, "keep it classy." At $279 for a pack of 12. Classy? Hmmm. Maybe not. It's right up there with the old Yves Saint Laurent cigarettes and Bill Blass cars. Thank goodness online evidence reveals that it's most likely a hoax.