It’s hard being a popstar, man. All that gyrating gets wearisome and sometimes I wanna jazz things up a little, but the record label usually says Hell no.
One time, though, me and Janet took the reins. It was Super Bowl XXXVIII and halftime was ours. Me and Janet masterminded the plan that ultimately cemented ours as the greatest Super Bowl performance ever.
We did the usual acrobatics and lip synching. Then at the end of the set, Janet gave the twinkle signal, and I moonwalked from some random point on stage to grab her behind.
“I’m gonna have you naked by the end of this song”, that was me wailing my intentions.
I reached over and ripped away the cloth from her left breast. The highlight of my life! I was kinda like a good politician. I had literally done what I sung I was gonna do!
American mothers rushed to blindfold their husbands and children. Too late.
NIPPPPLE, said the husbands, drooling. One guy even tried to auction his exploded cathode-ray tube on eBay.
“Can I use NIPPLE as a mnemonic?” asked teenage boys, and teenage girls pulled their Britney Spears Catholic school-girl uniforms from their attics, reviving them with NIPPLES.
It was an honest mistake. It really should have been both nipples! All that torrid hip-thrusting deserved a climax, right? Maybe not. Janet was banned from MTV, VH1, CBS, the Grammys, anti-Janet Congressional Bills were introduced; Janet had defiled me. The American family had been destroyed by millimeters of her flesh.
But America hadn’t seen anything yet. The 2020 Super Bowl show had two sex-crazed nymphs, Shakira and J.Lo, prancing around the stage, spraying a man-entrancing elixir; an abomination that likely beckoned Corona from the East to American shores (This theory is easily disproved, but if you disagree with me, you’re Hitler).
One guy from The Disgruntled Coalition squealed to the FCC, “I have never seen so many sex poses in one sitting!”. Technically, he was right, sex is usually slowly unveiled in Victoria’s Secret ads, on Times Square billboards, via naked models on magazine covers, or in every Hollywood shower scene.
Even kindergartners. Those little critters watch naked Teletubbies, and I’m pretty sure they can see Spiderman’s ‘stuff’ in that catsuit. But no one would probably care about this because Teletubbies are androgynous (posh word) and Spiderman is … well a man. No one complains about seeing John Cena’s nipples in that totally non-violent sport that kids NEVER watch.
It’s the 21st Century and women’s bodies still threaten the sanctity of American life. A buddy o’ mine, his girl was arrested in Cleveland for showing too much cleavage. This is the same country that cries when women breastfeed in public, yet moans the demise of poor infant nutrition – they could solve that whole problem easily, man.
It’s like femininity is the most dangerous thing in America. God forbid we just accept we’re a sex-obsessed culture that uses guns and religion to set boundaries. Instead, we complain about areola, more than the fact that rapists in seven states have parental rights.
As for me, I finally told Janet sorry in 2021, after scrolling through a bunch of porn on Instagram. I used words like ‘fallen short’ and ‘misogyny’.
Our performance was legendary, though man. Nipple-Gate catapulted YouTube into the webosphere, cause so many people wanted to watch us over and over again; and Congresswomen, who still can’t wear sleeveless tops to work, are furiously passing anti-Janet bills. But Jesus loves America, nipple and all.