Anybody out there remember Chubby Checker?  Those of us of a certain age will recall his mega-hit The Twist.  Chubby debuted the song in Wildwood, New Jersey in 1960.Chubby was pretty hot in the 60’s, but you don’t hear much from him today.  He sold a lot of records, but 65 years after The Twist, he’s still not in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.  You may well ask, what in the world has motivated this obscure stroll down memory lane?  Then again, speaking of obscurity, I probably shouldn’t say “stroll” because The Stroll was a 1958 hit for The Diamonds.

But I digress.  What made me nostalgic for Chubby Checker was that I had the misfortune of witnessing the Superbowl halftime show perpetrated by Rap (or is it Crap) artist Kendrick Lamar last Sunday night.

Still confused?  Okay.  The Lamar performance was so offensive and revolting that it prompted me to look up the halftime performers at past Superbowls.

Superbowl XXII in 1988 featured Chubby Checker, 88 Grand Pianos and the Rockettes.   Be honest.  Wouldn’t any of those three have been preferable to the largely incomprehensible, obscene, insulting, misogynistic mutterings of Crap Impresario Lamar?

And if Chubby Checker isn’t your cup of tea, here are just a few of the other past halftime performers – Michael Jackson, Diana Ross, Patti LaBelle, Gloria Estefan, Stevie Wonder, Aerosmith, U2, Paul McCartney, The Rolling Stones, Bruce Springsteen, Travis Tritt, Shania Twain, and Bruno Mars.

Was Kendrick Lamar truly the best performer they could find to entertain?  Maybe the problem is that, for about five years, the show has been produced by Jay-Z.  Since he got the job, the show has featured rappers Bad Bunny, Snoop Dogg, Dr. Dre, Eminem, and Kendrick Lamar (twice).  Enough already!

I’m unconvinced that Rap is music at all, never mind the only music worthy of being played on sport’s biggest stage.  And keep in mind that the show is supposed to be entertaining people who paid anywhere between $3,000 and $20,000 for game tickets.  In large measure, these are corporate people who have little in common with “artists” whose greatest talent is trying to rhyme every line of a song with “Bitch” or “Glock.”

Now, I’m aware that I’m an old fart who’s ill equipped to appreciate, what shall we call it, urban artistry?  It’s true, I’m out of touch.  And it’s also true that I’m firmly convinced that the Rap music business is peopled by too many lowlifes and criminals.  That’s probably because when rappers make news, it’s usually because one murdered another, or they were arrested for some other depravity.  And also because the only denizen of the Rap business I’ve ever known was a client in prison for theft, and later civilly committed as a sexual predator.

So, as far as I’m concerned, the fact that nearly all of Lamar’s performance was undecipherable was a blessing for America.  About the only thing recognizable was Samuel L. Jackson dressed as Uncle Sam, and I’m still not sure what he was doing there.

I really couldn’t understand much of what Lamar was saying.  For most of the show he was crouched down and muttering gibberish.  He had Samuel L. there doing his Apollo Creed impersonation.  He had dozens of clowns jumping out of a Buick Clown Car.  Then there were about 400 alleged dancers dressed in red, white and blue, some of them still wearing their Covid gator masks.

As for the “songs,” I had to look up the lyrics.  Turns out we were lucky we couldn’t understand him.  He sang Peekaboo.  A lovely tune –

Surprisе, bitch, it’s that nigga Chuck E. Cheese
Peekaboo, let me FacеTime my opp, bitch, I’m up the street
Peekaboo, yeah, it’s AZ, I’m puttin’ somethin’ to sleep
Peekaboo, he on the ground, I praise God and start stompin’ feet
Peekaboo, I put ten on his face, bitch, my shooter playin’
Peekaboo, I hit it from the back, I told her move her hands
Peekaboo, then slide my thumb in it where her, uh, at
Peekaboo, I’m on your top, I’m with Dot, bitch, don’t look back.

Charming right?  The perfect song for America’s Game.  Revenge, aggravated assault, and sexual abuse.

Then he sang Squabble Up.

I feel good, get the fuck out my face
Look good, but shе don’t got no taste
I walk in, walked out with the safе
Mando, let me know what the play

I got hits, I got bucks, I got new paper cuts
I got friends, I got foes, but they all sitting ducks
Hit his turf and get crackin’, double back like a deluxe
Fifty deep, but it ain’t deep enough
Fuck a plea, there he go, beat him up

Yeehaw, we outside, whoadie ’bout to kill him off
Blaps on blaps [blaps are gunshots], it’s a fact, this a brick of raw
Tell me why the fuck you niggas rap if it’s fictional?
Tell me why the fuck you niggas fed if you criminal?

Great.  So now we can add burglary, theft, and murder to The Big Game.

Lamar moved on to DNA

I got, I got, I got, I got
Loyalty, got royalty inside my DNA
Cocaine quarter piece, got war and peace inside my DNA
I got power, poison, pain and joy inside my DNA
I got hustle though, ambition, flow, inside my DNA

I was born like this, since one like this
Immaculate conception
I transform like this, perform like this
Was Yeshua’s new weapon
I don’t contemplate, I meditate, then off your fucking head …  Sex, money, murder—our DNA

Sex, Money, Murder is a sect of the Bloods gang.  Probably just a coincidence.  I guess the moral of the song is, you were born that way, so get high, then kill somebody.

Lamar’s song, Man at the Garden, continued the glorification of senseless violence.

I burn this bitch down, don’t you play with me or stay with me
I’m crashin’ out right now, no one’s safe with me
I did it with integrity and niggas still try hate on me, just wait and see
More blood be spillin’, it’s just paint to me

Lamar then segued into Not Like Us, taking the occasion of the Superbowl to air his feud with fellow rapper Drake.  Way to make the whole event about you Kendrick.

Suffice to say, I hated this crap, ah, rap.  Clearly though, it’s just me.  USA Today loved the filthy spectacle.  “In case you missed it, K. Dot came with the heat for sports’ biggest stage.  It had everything you could possibly want out of the Compton rapper.”

Newsweek agreed.  “Kendrick Lamar’s Super Bowl LIX halftime show was more than just a performance—it was a statement.”  “Lamar used the world’s biggest stage to make powerful cultural and political commentary.” “Lamar, known for his socially conscious lyrics and thought-provoking visuals, turned his performance into a platform for reflection on race, power and American identity.”

Seriously?  What were they smoking at Newsweek?  I think they broke into Kendrick’s stash.  The Superbowl halftime show was an obscene insult to America.  He’s providing social commentary about race prejudice holding the Black man down?  Wake up!  He’s a Black multi-millionaire who was hired by a Black billionaire.  I don’t begrudge them anything they’ve earned.  God Bless America.  But give us a break already!

The whole show reminded me of the inscription on W.C. Fields’ gravestone, “On the whole, I’d rather be in Philadelphia.”  Which reminds me, I had to watch the Philadelphia Eagles win the game.  Ugh!

Chubby Checker was raised in Philadelphia.  So how about giving him another shot?  “Come on baby, let’s do the twist!”