The last few Superbowl halftime shows have seriously stunk. I don't want to see Kid Rock, In Stink, or Britney at halftime. Heck, I don't want to see them any time. I have more self respect than that.
But this year, it's The Artist Formerly Known as The Artist Formerly Known as Prince. I can't wait. Archived posts tell one reason why I have a special place in my heart for Raspberry Beret, but Prince has some seriously rockin' music, with or without the guy in the red G string. Friends and I used to sit poolside and sing Purple Rain all summer, lamenting Tipper Gore's attempts to take away our fun. Hubby and I danced to that album during one of our early dates at South Bend's Ramada Inn -- then went out in the hall for some air where a complete stranger came up and told me how he liked to watch us dance. Crazy stuff, those days.
I'm sure that at some point, the hub has split at least one pair of pants to a Prince song. My kids have heard Prince, and I've even offered to buy the tickets if ds17s friend will just go see him with me sometime, cause he loves him too. Prince seriously rocks. My boss loves him like me. Has a picture of him in her office. She went to see him the last time he was here in town, whilst I worked. She told me later that he mentioned, near the end of the concert, that he was going to some bar on the north side after the show, and invited the crowd. She went home and went to bed.
Prince went to the bar and played for another hour and a half.