By Troy Brownfield

The Post-Game Show

As usual, here I am a couple of days after the Super Bowl with the smart-ass observations.

The Half-Time Show: The annual salute to lame at least had some interesting costuming this year. Shania Twain looked like she had just burst aboard the Enterprise, demanding that Captain Kirk mate with her in order to save Rygel XXXVII. Of course, Picard would have discussed violating the Prime Directive, whereas Kirk would have just violated her. I'm of half a mind that her notoriously reclusive husband, Robert John "Mutt" Lange was actually hiding in her diamond-studded cleavage. Up, up, up indeed.

No Doubt was the obvious bone thrown to the "younger" crowd (insert throwing bone to Gwen Stefani joke here), but it was somewhat odd to hear them rockin' out to their first hit as opposed to their latest. However, that paled before the oddness of Sting doing "Message in a Bottle". You think that Andy Summers and Stewart Copeland were sitting at home going, "Well fuckin' hell, Gordon, it's the bleedin' Super Bowl; a get-together wouldn't have killed anybody"?

The Commercials: The typically hyped commericals were astonishingly lackluster this year. I liked the zebra, the FedEx "Castaway" dig, and the Osbournes bit, but most of the real action was on the film trailer front. Between the "Hulk", "Daredevil", and "The Matrix" sequels, it almost looked like America had great taste in films. Of course, these are the same people that put "Just Married" atop of the box office for more than one week in a row.

Alias: Alias got the prime post-Bowl timeslot this year, and ABC took advantage of the opportunity to show Jennifer Garner in alternating red and black lingerie on about every commercial break. That makes them geniuses, and gives further credence to my theory that Scott Foley found a lamp on a beach a few years ago.

As for the actual episode itself, series creator JJ Abrams must be given full props for taking what could have been an excuse for a phoned-in episode and using it to turn the whol series on its God damn head. Seriously, this was one of the most outlandishly cathartic episodes of series televison that I've ever seen. For me, it immediately ranked with such greats as: Kellerman blowing away arch nemesis Luther Mahoney on "Homicide", the unexpected death of Kosh on "Babylon 5", the amazing third season finale of same (Sheridan jumps to his apparent death as his preprogrammed White Star drops a nuclear payload on the Shadow homeworld), the third season finale of "Farscape" (Crichton realizes Aeryn is pregnant before Moya is swallowed by a wormhole, leaving him stranded), Buffy and the gang going through the two-part "Graduation Day" (seriously, third seasons kick ass), the Tony/Ralphie mid-season throw-down and fall-out on "The Sopranos" this year, and four episodes of "Twin Peaks" (Cooper gets shot, "The Dream", Leland in the box, the last one).

In the space of sixty scant minutes, we had a disappearance, a new character, a new twist on a relationship, Garner in black, Garner in red, a revelation, a capture, another revelation, a reluctant mission, a simulatenous twelve-part raid, a dead new character, a kiss, three last-minute twists, a bullet in the head, and more. Frankly, it was an embarrassment of riches. In a season that's seen "Firefly" sandbagged, "Farscape" take it in the rear for God knows what reason, an inconsistent "Sopranos", and admittedly great "Buffy" as she heads for the door, it was refreshing to know that show can still kick ass and gain viewers. I just hope the sweeping change don't constitute a shark jump; actually, I'm pretty sure it won't.

The Game: Oh yeah, the game. Sorry if it seemed like the last thing on my mind. That's the way it seemed for Oakland. Gannon threw at so many things in red that I wondered if he'd been conditioned in his sleep. It was at least nice to see Ken Dilger, who was unceremoniously dumped by the Colts (how far did they get? Oh yeah . . .), get in on a big play.

The Australian: The other big sporting event of the weekend was the Austrailian Open in tennis. Serena Williams smoked her sister, but the bigger story in my mind is the continued dominance of Andre Agassi. At an age when most guys are retiring from the game (Michael Chang, we're looking at you), Agassi is actually getting better. He's turning 32, and he's won more tourneys since he turned 29 than before. That's truly amazing. AND, he and wife Stefi Graf are apparently teaming up for mixed doubles at the French. Who the hell wants THAT draw? Actually, the implied hilarity is that Anna Kournikova usually only does well in mixed doubles; looks like she might be going home extra EXTRA early.

The Sopranos Murder: Hey, I didn't call it that. CNN did. If you haven't heard by now, a 20-year-old and his 15-year-old half brother whacked their mom in California. Afterwards, they pulled a Ralphie, chopping off her head and hands as they'd seen on "The Sopranos". [For non-fans, Ralphie was killed by Tony, and in an effort to prevent identification, Tony and Christopher chopped Ralphie's head and hands off, and buried them separately after dumping the body in the river.]

Granted, the kids got the idea for the dismemberment from the TV show. HOWEVER, if they conspired to kill their mom, they were sick little fucks to begin with. I only mention this because the PTC or some other group will be pissing and moaning about it before too long. I've said it before: crazy people don't need TV to be crazy. Lizzie Borden took her axe before TV and radio. If the media creates killers, explain that. See? CRAZY.

Shameless Plug: If you're anywhere near Indianapolis on Monday, February 3rd, we invite you to take in Comedy Night, part of the Niswander's Mystery Monday series, at Birdy's on 71st and Keystone. The site is sponsoring the event, which includes comedians, the lovely Catt Sadler, and music. In addition to a mystery guest and the hair metal power of L.A. Rattz, you get witness the fury as the rivalry between the site's official band, The Frank Booth Project, and their bitches, No*Star, comes to a head. The stuff starts at 8pm; five bucks gets you a barstool, but all you'll need is the edge!

Troy Brownfield is the Editor-in-Chief of Shotgun Reviews. It would also be a shameless plug for him to tell you that he's got some pieces coming up in Newtype USA magazine, but he'll save that for later. Email Troy at psikotyk@aol.com

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