Well, after much anticipation and hype, Super Bowl XLV is in the books. All in all, it was a really good, enjoyable game with lots of great food, great friends and family fun. Even though my favorite team wasn't playing, I made the best of it by pulling for the eventual victor. A good time was had by all, as they say. The evening, however, left me with a couple of unusual dilemmas.


Well, after much anticipation and hype, Super Bowl XLV is in the books. All in all, it was a really good, enjoyable game with lots of great food, great friends and family fun. Even though my favorite team wasn't playing, I made the best of it by pulling for the eventual victor. A good time was had by all, as they say. The evening, however, left me with a couple of unusual dilemmas.
Years ago, I made a solemn oath to myself that I would not buy any product whose ads featured rap music, or were endorsed by the purveyors of such “music”...for lack of a better term. I'm serious. I've sworn off specific soft-drink and burger brands, among other things - and some of them I really liked - for that very reason. It's like my own private little boycott. I absolutely refuse to line the pockets of thugs.  
I consider myself to have very eclectic musical tastes - country, classical, classic rock, gospel, oldies, adult contemporary. I will listen to and enjoy most genres. I will, however, make an exception for gangsta' rap. This garbage almost – emphasis on almost - makes me nostalgic for "Heavy Metal," and I really didn't like Metal. That's not exactly accurate. I abhorred, loathed, despised, detested, had nothing but contempt for Metal. Rap is worse.
I think my biggest problem with rap is the counter-culture that surrounds it, and the criminal elements that it represents, celebrates and glorifies. Remember when your mom and dad used to caution you that Elvis, his music and all his musical peers emanated straight from the bowels of Hell? And, you would say, "Aw, shucks, Mom/Dad, no they aren't." Now you try to convince your children that these "musicians" are of similar origin. There is one distinct difference. Your mom and dad were wrong and you are right.  
At least, if Elvis and the early rockers were straight from the bowels of Hell, they kept it a secret and disguised it pretty well from us kids. They even put out the occasional Christmas and Gospel album. These guys these days not only make no attempt to disguise the fact that they come straight from the bowels of Hell, they act like they're pretty darn proud of it.  
Today's "musicians," in various media interviews, are known to say things like:  
"We sing about the things we know - murder, drugs, rape, sex."
"We didn't ask to be role models and don't want the job."
"We just want to be the loudest, grossest group of all time."
Can you imagine Elvis stating, in 1955, "Hey, my long-term goal is to be the most vulgar, obnoxious, foul-mouth singer of this century?” Can you envision Ed Sullivan now turning in his grave from the mere thought?  
Chubby Checker sang about the things he was familiar with - the Twist, among other things. You knew Fats had some experience "Walking to New Orleans" and on "Blueberry Hill." But, no one who knew anything about drugs, murder and rape, in those days, sang about it. They were all in jail.
So, back to the dilemmas. Right there, in the middle of a perfectly good Super Bowl, was an ad for a beautiful new Chrysler brand – sleek, streamlined, stylish, sophisticated. Driving and extolling the virtues of this beautiful machine was none other than Eminem...part sawed-off, pseudo-tough-guy pipsqueak, part foul-mouthed, white gansta-rapper. I was crestfallen. I love Chrysler products. It's the only brand I own. Now, what am I going to do? I've painted myself into a corner with that aforementioned, solemn oath thing. I don't see how I can go out, and in good conscience, buy a new Chrysler – at least, not for a long time.
On the bright side, I don't anticipate the need to buy a new car for quite some time. Good thing, as it'll take time until I've forgotten the awful trauma that whole Super Bowl/Eminem fiasco inflicted, and until those wounds heal. It should be roughly about the time that Eminem is in the twilight of his career, sporting a walker, and building a new theater in whatever venue is the rap-equivalent of Branson.
Now, about that half-time show...let's just say that New Year's Day won't ever be the same without that traditional plate of black-eyed peas.