The Orbis

I am calling for Don Mischer's head. Mischer, the producer of this year's Super Bowl halftime show, surely knew ahead of time that the repercussions would be enormous if he were to include any type of sleaze or amoral hijinks in his production given Janet Jackson's infamous "wardrobe malfunction" last year. Mischer knew to deliver wholesome entertainment suitable for families with young children watching, but he failed us all. This year's halftime show was as subversive and impudent as last year's show was pornographic.

I had high hopes for the halftime show this year since the Super Bowl coverage on Fox began rather pleasantly. During the pre-game broadcast, Fox ran a segment in which a multitude of former football players such as the legendary Jim Brown took turns reading from the Declaration of Independence. I was heartened to see such nice young men showing their respect for America's proud ideals, and the patriotic rendition of the Star Spangled Banner sung by a group of America's fine servicemen and servicewomen furthered my sense of enthusiasm. It seemed that the purveyors of last year's lasciviousness had learned their lesson.

After two quarters of football, though, my hopes for a clean Super Bowl were dashed as singer and ex-Beatle Paul McCartney trotted out to midfield for his halftime performance. McCartney proceeded to play a twelve-minute set of old Beatles songs, including the rabble-rousing "Get Back."

What a role model for the children. Fortunately, impressionable kids are too young to remember the 1960's, when Paul McCartney along with the rest of the Beatles stormed into the USA, using centuries of American family values as their doormat. "Why Can't We Do It in the Road?" they asked as they corrupted a generation of young Americans. Through their blaring music, the uncouth foursome spread a message telling teenagers to rebel against their parents, smoke hashish, and be tardy to school. And in ways that are far too complex to delineate here, the Beatles' subversive music precipitated the stagflation of the 1970's.

Don Mischer gave Paul McCartney an audience of nearly 90 million Americans, and it should be no surprise that McCartney seized the opportunity to infect the country with his perverse values. McCartney, along with his unkempt backup band, battered viewers with angry music as a boisterous, orgiastic crowd "rocked out" in front of the stage.

The whole set had a hellish cast, with a disorienting phantasmagoria of lights emanating from the stage and egging on the primal, uninhibited dancing taking place around center stage. The sea of sinful revelers crashed about so violently that many of the carousers even bumped into each other. No children should be exposed to such behavior if we expect them to grow up mild-tempered, civil and respectful of the personal space of others.

After the second song, McCartney's caterwauling ceased momentarily as he took a seat at the keyboard to play a softer song. I thought that the worst was over, but soon the music resurged, accompanied by booming fireworks and smoke bombs. There may as well have been brimstone, too, because McCartney's performance looked as though it was taking place in the bowels of hell.

Even though McCartney finished his set on a positive note by playing the relatively subdued song "Hey Jude" as patriotic images of the Statue of Liberty flashed on the giant on-stage television screens, it could not make up for everything that preceded it. Any child who watched McCartney's appalling twelve-minute spectacle of noise and flashing lights would have surely been deeply confused and over-stimulated – and no doubt unable to sleep that night. Also, can you imagine the questions from innocent children that uncomfortable parents must have faced? "Mommy, why is that man's hair so shaggy?"

Why can't the Super Bowl just have a normal, wholesome performer, like Scott Joplin or those nice Andrews Sisters? I wish the halftime show could still be good, clean fun like the ones when I was a kid. Like the one in 1993 when that nice man Michael Jackson sang wonderfully as he immersed himself in a large group of bright-eyed children.

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