What is was was a fool's ball

You can't play rock-and-roll on a diet of Quorn, veggie juice, and Linda Bloody McCartney's Tofu Treats! - Edina Monsoon, Absolutely Fabulous

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A few things you should know about me, if you don't already.

• I hate football and most organized sports.
• I hate the Super Bowl.
• I hate crappy pop music.
• I hate Maroon 5.
• I hate Adam Levine.
• I hate gay men drooling over pictures of gratuitous displays of manflesh.

I don't mind the flesh itself, but I prefer not to act like a 57-year-old 14-year-old every time I see a naked body.

So you likely can surmise that for me a shirtless Adam Levine of Maroon 5 playing the half-time show during the Super Bowl is the equivalent of being stabbed in the head with an ice pick. Repeatedly and with gusto.

I mean, sure, yeah, Adam Levine has a good body ... I guess. But how can I say for sure? There are so many tattoos, so many, and I'm from a generation that thinks excessive tattoos look, well, excessive. And kinda trashy.

One might get away with a lot of tattoos and trashiness if one had some blue collar street cred--serves or served in the armed forces, works as a mechanic, did or is currently doing time in prison, etc. But on a pampered Momma's Boy of a pop star that is as manufactured and focus-grouped as his muscles, they just look trashy but in an inauthentic, calculated way.

I told one of my drooling friends that he looks like a Mexican sugar skull that got lost on his way to a Day of the Dead celebration. Like a lotería card mated with a Ken doll. Like the Guy Pearce character in Memento--or the actress who plays in Blindspot--if the hero were a smug putz who wants you to want his body but acts like he doesn't, that somehow he's above pimpin' himself while he is in fact pimpin' himself. No, señor

And for pity's sake, C A L I F O R N I A? Why? Why did you have a state's name tattooed across your stomach? Are you afraid you'll forget where you live? Is your city tattooed on your ass and your zip code on your wang?

I'm sure in real life Adam Levine is a lovely person, but he gives off (at least to me) a very fake vibe. My drooling friend thought otherwise, so what do I know? I never thought Donald Trump would get elected or Maroon 5 would have lasted past three albums.

In all of this, I can't help express a little sympathy for Adam Levine's wife, Namibian model Behati Prinsloo. Don't you just know she is grateful when they have sex with the lights off? Less reading, fewer visual distractions, and no secret desire to fake an orgasm when you're tired of trying to figure out Where's Waldo.

Lady B, thanks for taking one for the team, but hasn't Africa suffered enough? I think so.

Still more Attitude Challenge

Girl, you know it's not true. "Believe Tour 13, 2012"
by Joe Bielawa; uploaded by MyCanon -
Justin Bieber. Licensed under CC BY 2.0
via Wikimedia Commons.

Phrases that I hope never to hear again, Part 1.

"Our special guest tonight is . . . Adam Levine!" Seriously, dude, are you gonna do ribbon-cuttings at nail salons and gas stations next? P.S. I hate your music.

"He's my soulmate!" Any contestant on The Bachelor. Actually, I think he's his own soulmate, dear.

"Looks like Rihanna and Chris Brown are back together again!" I get the whole moth to the flame thing, but this is more like a moth to the firebombing of Dresden. No, girl. Please, no.

"We need to teach men not to rape."

OK, this one drives me crazy for a couple of reasons. For one thing, I don't remember anyone actually teaching me this; I just kinda knew it from the get-go not to do so.

For another, it makes men sound incredibly stupid.

And finally, if you have to repeat this phrase over and over again, then many men are, in fact, incredibly stupid. Not to mention venal, clueless, cruel, delusional, hateful, ignorant, bullying, lacking in empathy and common decency . . . .

Alright you win: We'll keep repeating this one until everybody gets the message.

"Next up, the Steelers . . ." (Also acceptable, "Next up, the Stillers . . .").

I know I'm on thin ice here (and for some this is a worse offense than the previous comment), but do come the effin' on.

Not every newscast has to mention the Steelers. Not everyone has to react like Pavlov's pooch every time they are mentioned. Not everyone wants to see a couple of sweaty, over-muscled jocks pound each other into the ground (unless it's in a porno, of course--hey, what can I say? I know my audience).

"Buhraaack Obaaahmuh"--as pronounced by U.S. Senator Michele "Glassy-Eyed" Bachmann in her usual Ambien-induced hangover.

"Today John McCain said . . . " absolutely nothing worth reporting on ever, unless he recited his own epitaph just before he croaked it.

"I pay my taxes/I'm a taxpaying citizen/as a taxpayer/whatever." Hey, guess what, most of us are taxpayers, too!--except for the corporations and oligarchs that get away with not paying taxes because they pander to your fear that someone out there is getting one over on you. (Pssst. The ones who are telling you that someone is getting one over on you are the ones who are getting one over on you.)

"Congress went on recess." Enough said.

"Today Justin Bieber was involved in another slapfight with Orlando Bloom." OK, you're right, that one is worth hearing again. And again and again and again.