Afraid Homeland Security might start a file on me if I didn't partake, I made my way down to the local watering hole with my roommate last night to watch the first half of the Super Bowl. Luckily I was at the bottom of my second pint of Libery Ale for the Prince Half-Time Spectacular, complete with explosions, dancing girls, and a glow-in-the-dark marching band. I might not have been able to handle it otherwise. I'm not sure how Prince manhandling his "guitar" is any less racy than a microscopic blip of Janet Jackson's boob, that nobody would have seen anyway if it hadn't been replayed on TV 800 million times. The NY Times has a brief review of the show, pointing out how in the past Prince's music "helped spark a national debate about explicit lyrics," yet here he is being banked on as a safe bet by NFL officials still reeling from the infamous "wardrobe malfunction." Who would have thought?

My status as a patriotic American firmly in place, I made my way home as soon as Prince left the stage, pondering over what I had just seen: How can they do that in the pouring rain? Doesn't the field get ruined? How come Prince and his band weren't electrocuted? Prince likes the Foo Fighters? Is he the only person in the world with a mint green suit?