doo ba dee
About eight years ago, you would have found me in Mrs. Carroll’s computer lab playing You Don’t Know Jack with the dork squad during Friday afternoon pep rallies. It wasn’t that I lacked school spirit; it’s that my high school didn’t understand my particular flair for school spirit. My bathroom tissue throwing during the cheerleading squad’s Cotton Eyed Joe routine was quickly dampened (per se). For some reason, the GHS administration thought it was distasteful. But if you go to a Jenks Trojans rally, TP throwing is the bomb. It’s the pinnacle of school spirit. And they won football state championship like three hundred times in a row. So who wants to argue with that?
Somehow, Indianapolis has chipped through my icy shell that has despised, nay vomited on, football all these years. It might have something to do with the fact that this town is an island…an island with temperatures below freezing for about eight months of the year. The only way to survive on this island is with gas heating, fried cheese, cognac, and NFL football.
I scare myself with my newfound passion for football. Especially, when I start insulting a referee's mother during a ridiculous overlooked pass interference last weekend and led my section in booing him off the field at halftime. Shouldn’t I be at home reading Chomsky or Sontag? Yes, I should. But my real test is WWHSTD or What Would Hunter S. Thompson Do? And he would totally support this, so I don’t question it too much.
At press time on Monday, however, the refs were not the center of attention. Neither was the fact that Peyton ran his own second touchdown ever. Or the fact that Reggie Wayne’s brother was killed in a car accident over the weekend. No - the most important thing was every god-fearing football fan’s concern was Ice Cube’s “Go to Church.”
You see, most of our NFL players warm up to music that moves the spirit. And generally this music is hip hop, which occasionally has questionable lyrics filled with (shhh) curse words and sexual innuendos. So, when the dome played Ice Cube’s song, they replaced “motherfucker” with “mothermother.” But the audience, in their chastened state of upset, thought they heard the vulgar version. Granted, this is a family venue and they probably shouldn’t have played it all (and now won’t ever). If Peyton could play his own inspirational music, we would be subjected to Toby Keith and Faith Hill. So, let’s please not get all Tipper Gore by putting chastity belts on our ears, shall we?
To my horror, the one overlooked crime against humanity is credited to the new mascot, Blue. He’s innocent enough and entertaining. But his introduction music is Eiffel 65’s “I’m Blue,” a song that I sold to hundreds of acne pocked, brace wearing kids on NOW Hits Volume 423 in 2000. A song whose haunting refrain of “doo ba dee doo bad dah” echoed throughout thou hallowed walls of Barnes & Noble and still sends shivers along my spine...next to the Macarena. Do we really want to subject another generation of children to a “musical” group that looks like this:
I think not.
Somehow, Indianapolis has chipped through my icy shell that has despised, nay vomited on, football all these years. It might have something to do with the fact that this town is an island…an island with temperatures below freezing for about eight months of the year. The only way to survive on this island is with gas heating, fried cheese, cognac, and NFL football.
I scare myself with my newfound passion for football. Especially, when I start insulting a referee's mother during a ridiculous overlooked pass interference last weekend and led my section in booing him off the field at halftime. Shouldn’t I be at home reading Chomsky or Sontag? Yes, I should. But my real test is WWHSTD or What Would Hunter S. Thompson Do? And he would totally support this, so I don’t question it too much.
At press time on Monday, however, the refs were not the center of attention. Neither was the fact that Peyton ran his own second touchdown ever. Or the fact that Reggie Wayne’s brother was killed in a car accident over the weekend. No - the most important thing was every god-fearing football fan’s concern was Ice Cube’s “Go to Church.”
You see, most of our NFL players warm up to music that moves the spirit. And generally this music is hip hop, which occasionally has questionable lyrics filled with (shhh) curse words and sexual innuendos. So, when the dome played Ice Cube’s song, they replaced “motherfucker” with “mothermother.” But the audience, in their chastened state of upset, thought they heard the vulgar version. Granted, this is a family venue and they probably shouldn’t have played it all (and now won’t ever). If Peyton could play his own inspirational music, we would be subjected to Toby Keith and Faith Hill. So, let’s please not get all Tipper Gore by putting chastity belts on our ears, shall we?
To my horror, the one overlooked crime against humanity is credited to the new mascot, Blue. He’s innocent enough and entertaining. But his introduction music is Eiffel 65’s “I’m Blue,” a song that I sold to hundreds of acne pocked, brace wearing kids on NOW Hits Volume 423 in 2000. A song whose haunting refrain of “doo ba dee doo bad dah” echoed throughout thou hallowed walls of Barnes & Noble and still sends shivers along my spine...next to the Macarena. Do we really want to subject another generation of children to a “musical” group that looks like this:
posted by anarchic at 3:55 PM
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