Garcia Media Life

I have just awakened from my shrimp, buffalo-wing, pizza and guacamole food-coma and it all seems like a blur. Is it true we just fed twenty people? No. We fed six and now have enough leftovers to last until next Super Bowl.

Madonna

She’s 52, o.k.? She needs a little help with her cart-wheels and doesn’t move around like she used to. She doesn’t even pretend she’s not lip-syncing but overall, I liked the halftime show. “Honey, honey,” I said to my girlfriend, “remember thigh-high stiletto boots and pom-poms.” Breaking News: Some singing sensation named MIA flipped off the camera. That building with the lights on past midnight here in the nation’s capital is the headquarters of the Federal Communications Commission.

Bull Dogs in Sneakers, Fiat, Big Daddy, Clint Eastwood and Mike Bloomberg

I liked the bull dog in sneakers beating out the greyhounds. I also have a new appreciation for Fiat automobiles and the Italian language, in particular. I am officially ashamed that I got my domain name from Big Daddy.com. And as for Clint Eastwood and “halftime in America,” I will never say anything the least bit negative about Chrysler or Detroit ever again. I also have no issues with the Mayors of Boston and New York making an appeal for gun control- but what am I going to use from now on to shoot my TV with?

Wait- I’ve Seen These All Somewhere Before

It’s actually passé now to write about Super Bowl commercials because they’ve all been shown over the past week on You Tube. But there’s solace in the fact it’s once again o.k. to get up and go to the bathroom during the commercials.

The Game

Still, every year, the ads get continuously interrupted by men in colorful uniforms chasing an oblong leather ball. I understand a baby-faced gentleman named Eli Manning became one of the greatest comeback quarterbacks in NFL history and more accomplished than his brother Peyton. Giants coach, Tom Coughlan, is now just as good as Bill Parcells. And at 9-7 this season, the New York Giants have somehow managed to become a dynasty winning two of the last four of these things.

All good. Can we all agree to stop using Roman numerals to identify these Super Bowls, though? I get the analogy already. But the Roman empire is gone now, dead and buried under the weight of its own excesses with coliseums, armored gladiators, sex and decadence. We’re better than that.