Purple Rain and Phallacy

I am a complete football neophyte, with an immigrant father I was raised primarily watching soccer and baseball (my New Yorker mom's influence). Also, growing up in Arizona there were no pro teams until I was in at least high school, so I wasn't brought up as a fan with a "my team" loyalty. For me sports were something played and not watched, unless it was grainy Tele-Mundo futbol broadcasts ("GOOOOOAAAAAAL!!!!") or attending spring training baseball games that were usually followed by double-header concerts with The Beach Boys or The Monkees and free foam fingers for those of us under 10. They gave free bats away once…just once though, who thought of that horrible idea?!?

But working in advertising and a die-hard pop-culture student I have come to love the Super Bowl if just for the commercials and half-time shows. So, yesterday armed with enough knitting and White Russians to keep me on the couch for four full hours I settled in to watch THE game. The annoying level of "super-fan" cheering over the coin-toss was enough to tempt me to check the On-Demand guide…as there was a marathon of The Closer on TNT that had some serious pull for me…but no, I was determined to sit, watch and try and understand all the pull of this event.

My housemate finally migrated downstairs to watch the game and explain some of the finer points of play to me, and from what I understand it was a pretty great game. I'll even admit to setting down my knitting and watching about 60% of the game—that is pretty huge progress for me…

Since, I was displaying some interest in the game and actually actively watching my housemate thoughtfully participated in my favorite task of discussing the commercials and then the pop-culture holy grail of the half-time show. The half-time performer is always an interesting choice, something to appeal to middle-America, well known enough to be a household name and hopefully not a has-been. To this day I still don't know how Miss Jackson managed to slip through the cracks.

Our votes for half-time fell more along the lines of the good-old American performers like Springsteen or Bob Seger, maybe CCR and a little harmonizing with Britney or Christina to keep the younger set interested. Prince to my housemate held no merit what-so-over. Which surprised me, for his job as a ski coach he has clocked more highway and Top 40 radio hours then the average bear. You can't have listened to Top 40 radio for that long and not have a soft-spot for Prince.

He: "I can't even name one Prince song."

Me: "Yes, you can. Hello. Pretty Woman singing along in the bath tub to Kiss. How about Little Niki, or Red Corvette, Raspberry Beret, Purple Rain, I Would Die 4 U..."

He: "OK, OK so I guess I kind of know one or two of them.

Me: "One or two!!! And anyway now he's more of a producer, he just got a lifetime achievement award. He probably wrote or mixed most of the songs you know the words too."

He: "Like who?"

Me: "Umm..." Why or why does the mind go blank at these points in debates?

He: "OK, I can name his best contribution ever, he made Carmen Electric"

Me: "Fair enough"

He: "But still, don't you think the half-time performer should be someone all American and corn-fed from like Minnesota."

Me: "He's from Minneapolis…"

Then suddenly on the rain-soaked half-time stage our debate was interrupted by the launching of a huge condom-like white parachute in front of Prince. The camera was showing an illuminated silhouette of Prince wailing away on his guitar that was in the shape of his "The Artist Formally Known as Prince" symbol…but when he turned the guitar side-ways it was clearly a huge penis, illuminated behind a HUGE phallic shroud.

Why is no one talking about this today?

On headline news they commented on Prince's classy performance and the thoughtful nod of wearing aqua and orange in a tribute to the Dolphin Stadium…how did this little man who once wore purple lace assless chaps for an MTV performance slip this HUGE phallic symbol past America? Weren't we all watching and hoping for something naughty?

I even googled Prince and Super Bowl. Nada. Then I googled Prince and phallic—which I don't recommend trying, especially at work.

I feel dirty? Is my household the only one with their thoughts of the half-time show steaming up from the gutter? "I'm sorry Miss Jackson..." but you've ruined us or at least our expectations.