Blues, pelicans and Super Bowl ads

I was driving to the beach yesterday and about to reach my favorite spot when a song came on the radio that stopped me in my tracks. It had a jungle beat and a powerful, yet sweet, female vocal lamenting that she was “drowning in her own tears.” I was completely captivated. I parked but left the radio on until she’d finished telling her story. The DJ identified her as Robin Rogers – a name I knew.

Last fall both my regular blues podcasts (Roadhouse and Murphy’s Saloon -- see links to right) told how the recently discovered Rogers had just been diagnosed with liver cancer, that her husband and musical partner Tony Rogers had quit playing to take care of her full time and that she had no medical insurance. I sent a check – not enough to get into heaven – but I wanted to be a part of the blues community that was being asked to help out. She died in December just after learning that her last release, “Back in the Fire” had been nominated for a Blues Music Award. The whole album is great but you can try “Ocean of Tears,” the song that snagged me, for only 99 cents. Robin had a hard life, found success late, and then died at 55, but she left something beautiful behind.

Then I watched the pelicans feed for an hour or so. They found a mother-load of fish about 50 yards off shore which attracted more than 100 of the big birds, which look to me like a Disney version of a pterodactyl. The squadron of birds circled a school yard of fish covering about a half an acre, at an altitude of maybe 30 feet. It looked like flying a merry-go-round with every bird tethered to a central axes; but one-by-one the birds paused for a portion of a second, tucked their articulated wings into their bodies, pointed their prehistoric heads and beaks towards the water and dove straight down into the teaming buffet. Bird after bird – 5 or 6 in a matter of 2 or 3 seconds; then a pause for a few seconds and then 3-4 more. Tschoooo. Tschoooo. Tschooo. Then back up into the elevated raceway to spot another fish. There are worse ways to waste an afternoon.

So the Super Bowl was OK -- a pretty good game. The commercials were, as always in my view, overrated. I did like the VW/Darth Vader ad, which was a top pick for lots of people. The Chevy-Camaro-turns-into-a-robot ad was great and the Chevy Cruze/Facebook app ad was very sweet. I loathed the #3 best recall ad for Doritos – “Man licks cheese crumbs.” Haven’t we seen this ad like 5000 times with some other embarrassingly dweeby white dude doing something disgusting and demeaning that shows how much he worships the product? Enough. It had a great recall score but so what? I love the Windell Middlebrooks ads for Miller Beer, but no matter how many times I watch him take the Highlife away from some low-life, it won’t be enough to get me to drink one of their 12 once urine samples in a beer bottle.

******

I’ve been very curious to know how the hundreds of thousands of demonstrators in Cairo knew the logistics of their protests in advance and how those plans were made. The media has mostly credited Facebook and Twitter, which is like given credit to the telephone for the planning of D-Day, but there is an excellent article in the Times today that provides a deeper look into the planning.

The People’s Republic of Football

This Sunday the whole country will come to a standstill while two great athletic powers face off in a game of unparalleled importance; yes, I’m talking about the Ohio State v. Minnesota basketball game, as the 23-0 Buckeyes take on the 18^th ranked Golden Gophers for Big Ten supremacy. Oh yeah, there is a football game later on Sunday. I’m going with the Stillers, primarily because they just seem to know how to win the big one. I expect a close game and a decent amount of scoring. Let’s say 27-24.

Speaking of football, Chilly Joe sent me a link to one of Bill Maher’s rants that was good for a laugh. His premise is that the NFL is the most competitive and popular professional sport because the owners have embraced socialism as their business model from day one. You may not like Maher – I often wish I could reach out and smack him one myself – but read the piece and see if he isn’t right. You can find it here.

You remember Chatty Cathy? Well the latest talking toy has just hit the shops. It is a talking Muslim doll complete with burka. Nobody knows what she says because no one has the balls to pull the cord. I’m not going to credit the person who sent that one to me as they lack 24/7 personal protection.

You know what is really annoying and ubiquitous watching the network coverage from Egypt and the winter storms bombarding the U.S.? It’s the way TV anchors thank every field correspondent at the end of their reports, like they were volunteers working in leper colonies. Is it that they feel guilty sitting in a warm studio getting paid millions for reading the news, or just another example of how in America everyone expects a trophy in recognition of each bowel movement? Every time I go to McDonalds I expect the counterperson to turn and thank the grill cook for preparing my Big Mac.