My God, the Super Bowl is four days off, and I am already sick to death of the hype. Why are the parties for "high rollers" even newsworthy? Why should I care that celebrities of any flavor are crawling over Houston, drinking our Cristal and chasing our women? I suppose the local stations have to do SOMETHING to fill their newscasts, but I'm tired of hearing about the swanky parties for the rich, the pampered, and the well-connected.
Our national fixation with celebrity is getting a full-scale workout this week, and I can feel the bile beginning to rise. I'm certainly not anti-party, and I want those who have come here for the Super Bowl to enjoy themselves. Still, I can't bring myself to care whether Charlie Sheen or Charlie Sixpack is in town. They're both the same in my eyes.
Of course, it's easy for me to be somewhat jaded, living 30 miles from Reliant Stadium as I do. Here in the hinterlands, there is no virtually no evidence of the Super Bowl. No outsized bacchanals, no monuments to sporting excess, no extra security precautions for celebrities. From where I sit, the Super Bowl might as well be in Montreal. Frankly, I'm rather enjoying it.
Ah, well, this insanity will be over soon enough. Then all we have to listen to are the stories about the "aftermath" and the alleged "economic impact", whatever the hell that's supposed to mean. Until, that is, someone wonders when Houston will be awarded it's next Super Bowl. Uggghhh....
