I’ve certainly spent a lot of time the last couple of years talking about the loss of masculinity in American pop culture. In a time where we are inundated with pop singers and Disney kids primed as tomorrow’s only action stars, it makes it hard not to look back at yesteryear and wonder what happened.
Last night was Super Bowl 45. As Vegas predicted the Packers won a close game despite some big injuries, and Ben Rapelesberger was denied his 3rd ring in 6 years. It was a good game, and as much as I hate the Lion’s division rival, Green Bay has a loyal fan base and I’m happy for them.
I am, by no means, a music aficionado. I like what I like and hate most everything else.
A vast majority of my favorite artists are either dead, or long retired. When I go to the bar, my friends complain how sick they are of ‘over-played’ songs which I’ve never even heard. And to those who know me, it’s no surprise that I’d much rather go to the movie theater than to a concert. That being said, there always was one band I really wanted to see live, The White Stripes.