Super Duper

Hello World, Happy February! Just when you think this short dark month in the middle of the winter has nothing to offer, you realize the whole thing is just crammed to the rafters (that is, if February actually had any rafters) with events, observances, holidays and celebrations of all sorts - and don't spare the fireworks and candy hearts, my good man! It all starts off with a bang on the 2nd with Groundhog Day, much beloved by politicians and other nefarious scoundrels, because for at least one day, the entire force of the media spotlight is focused on someone even more unpopular than themselves, as the furry prognosticators generally predict six more weeks of winter, thanks not. This may go over well with snow plows and ski resorts, but the rest of us are more than ready to hang up our snowshoes and call it a day on the frigid front, and that's not just the icicles talking, believe me. Next up is the politically-charged cultural lightning rod that is Waitangi Day on the 6th, which ranges from tense animosity seething under the surface, to explosive confrontations and violence splashed across front pages around the globe. Personally, I find that plenty of tequila and green beer tend to make any situation more festive, and while I don't know if it would actually improve Waitangi Day or not, I can't help but feel that it certainly can't make it any worse than it is now. Hard on its heels we have Valentine's Day on the 14th, full of all the hearts and flowers, bon-bons and jewelry that anyone could hope for. Then there's Presidents Day on the 16th, honoring our Chief Executives throughout history, good or bad - and here again, this is another occasion that is helped along considerably with vast quantities of tequila and green beer, by jingo. Next up, we have Shrove Tuesday and Mardi Gras cheek-by-jowl on the 17th, followed by Ash Wednesday on the 18th, ushering in the season of grouchy Christians everywhere, giving up their favorite vices for the duration, and making everyone around them miserable in the process. At the other end of the spectrum, we welcome Chinese New Year beginning on the 19th, always a boisterous and rollicking time to be had by all, with no need of tequila or green beer to pump up the volume, as it were. In the cycle of annual designations, this is the Year of the Sheep, so for people born in 2015, 2003, 1991, 1979, 1967, 1955, 1943, 1931, 1919 or 1907, please feel free to get on out there and be ba-a-a-a-a-d to the bone, and don't let anyone pull the wool over your eyes. As if all this wasn't enough, the whole kit and kaboodle is National Black History Month, and if you ever wanted to know 1,001 uses for peanuts, the legendary George Washington Carver would be happy to inform you, I'm sure. And speaking of information, they also tell me that it's a mere two weeks until the three most beautiful words in the English language: Pitchers and Catchers. If that's not enough to shake anyone out of the winter doldrums with cheerful thoughts of sunny climes and balmy breezes, young men cavorting in the grass, and the sound of bat against ball - well, then, I'm afraid I just don't know what it would take. Garcon, more tequila and green beer, if you please! Speaking of sports, the Super Bowl was certainly a spirited affair, and not some boring blowout or low scoring snooze-fest, but a taut and closely-matched contest that went right down to the wire in more ways than one. In the end, the New England Patriots came away with their 4th championship in 13 years, by denying the defending champion Seattle Seahawks, the opportunity to be the first team to win back-to-back titles since the Patriots of 2004 and 2005. Not everyone necessarily thought that the best team won the day, but after all, that's what makes horse races - and next time, the Seahawks will know better than to get on the wrong side of the evil spirit of Affirmed, that's for sure. For anyone who wonders, the teams with the most Super Bowl appearances are: Dallas Cowboys, New England Patriots and Pittsburgh Steelers (8), Denver Broncos (7), Oakland Raiders and San Francisco 49ers (6), Green Bay Packers, New York Giants and Washington Redskins (5), Baltimore/Indianapolis Colts, Buffalo Bills and Miami Dolphins (4), with all the rest of the stragglers bringing up the rear. Of course, even when the juggernaut that is the Super Bowl pulls into the station, so to speak, it's still not the only game in town, not by a long shot. Non-fans searching desperately for something else to watch need look no further than The Lingerie Bowl, which has set a new (possibly very low) standard in counter-programming at its very best, or very worst, depending on your outlook. There's even something called The Toddler Bowl, which is probably a family affair, and not one with teams of professional toddlers, subject to contracts, trades, salary caps or free agency, one supposes. (Although that reminds me of a recent circular from JC Penney with the screaming headline "OUR BIGGEST BABY SALE OF THE SEASON," which I don't mind saying, conjures up all manner of unsavory mental images, try as I might to ruthlessly suppress them.) For fans of the fun and furry instead, an adorable alternative is the (getting to be) venerable Puppy Bowl, still going strong in its XIth season, with pups of all descriptions - and some that are just too darned cute, that words have yet to be invented that could properly describe them. Even better, it also serves as an adoption event, so that rescue and shelter animals can find new homes with loving owners. On the other side of the pet divide, there's the more recent addition of the Kitten Bowl, with former NFL superstar Boomer Esiason, of all people, at the helm. (Of course, "at the helm" implies some sense of control, whereas there's a reason for expressions such as "Teaching kindergarten is like herding cats," because everyone understands there's no way to control cats, and I ought to know.) But if there's anything cuter than a barrel full of kittens, I certainly don't know what it is, and that's not just a lot of catnip mice, believe me. After the program, the happy adopters and adoptees rode off into the sunset for their new lives together, for a misty-eyed finish that the real Super Bowl rarely aspires to, and falls short even with all of the advanced technology at its disposal. I just love a happy ending, don't you? On the other hand, there are those who only watch The Big Game for the sake of the commercials, which run the gamut from the tried-and-true, to the outlandish, ridiculous, hilarious, outrageous, incomprehensible, and everything in between. I suppose everyone has their favorites, and over the decades, advertisers have done their best to grab the audience's attention and outdo themselves over the previous years, often with brilliant or disastrous results. It must be said that with what they pay for commercial spots during the Super Bowl, you could support a Third World country for an entire year, so at our house, we file this sort of stuff under the category of: This Is Why The Terrorists Hate Us, but they say you can't argue with success, so I'm not going to try. But it reminds me that we recently had our own brush with Madison Avenue, such as it is (now there's an idiom from days gone by that's surely lost on young people nowadays) as one of the houses in our small neighborhood was host to a commercial shoot last week. We had been notified by the host family, well before the undertaking, so we knew to expect the film crew on Tuesday, and not to mention, all the disruption that would entail. This is not our first time at the rodeo, as it were, as our tiny enclave has been the scene of other filming before, so we didn't expect much in the way of surprises. They started to arrive bright and early at 7:00 AM, with a caravan of cars, a dozen trucks and vans, plus food service trailers, and their own generators for the specialized lighting and technical equipment. Unlike the last commercial, for a pharmaceutical product that filmed across the street, this new one was for the Hoover company (vacuums and cleaning devices) and was shot farther down the block. They also suffered in comparison to the previous commercial, without the ever-present "help" of the neighborhood's self-proclaimed Good Will Ambassador, the irrepressible Cinna-Mooch of lore and legend, who was the cat next-door and made it her job to be underfoot at all times. She was the darling of the film crew, and probably scarfed down more treats from the food service truck than the actual workers on the shoot, I shouldn't wonder. Alas, those neighbors have long since moved away, and taken their cats with them, so poor Hoover had no choice but to do without them, and more's the pity, I'm sure. They were still filming when we came home from work, with the glare of spotlights through the trees, and the streets still parked solid with strange vehicles. We considered the experience a success, since nobody parked in our driveway, which has happened before, but apparently there were other unfortunate consequences of the activities, so much so that the hosting family felt compelled to fire off a broadcast email to all of the neighbors, apologizing for the many difficulties that had been complained about. Our friends at Hoover might wince, but it would be all to easy to say, "This really sucks" (oh, hit that easy target!) and I'm sure the Seattle Seahawks would agree. Elle