Wednesday, January 08, 2003
Ain't No Mountain High Enough
I made a startling discovery in the pawn shop yesterday. In 1992, at the height of the Sweatin' To The Oldies craze, some genius at NFL Films thoughts it would be a good idea to make music videos full of archival NFL footage interspersed with some awkward narration. They made a few different videos, and the one trailer at the beginning of the video advertised Elton John and Bon Jovi. While that sounds as vile and nauseating as microwave pork rinds or head cheese, the tape I bought is a treasure. Sunshine on a cloudy day.
NFL Goes Motown.
That's right. I can watch clips of fumbles, leaping catches, end zone dances, and miraculous Walter Payton ballets while listening to the soulful sounds of Smokey & the Miracles, Diana Ross, Jr Walker, Stevie Wonder, The Contours, and the Temptations. More than that, even. I've already watched it twice. It's sadly only 45 minutes. But what a 45 minutes. Wow. For 99 cents. I want to sing along but that would distract me from the jumping running backs getting helicoptered in mid-air. So I watch, mouth open, eyes unblinking, swaying back and forth like a rusty teeter-totter. Very happy. I'm going back to the pawn shop tonight to find out what else is hiding there. I suspect that this is untoppable.
11:33 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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