Halftime

I am a Stones fan, no denying it. I don't know how they can still be around after all these years; but they are and they still sound great. I tuned in for the halftime show Sunday night (after watching interception after interception) to see how they would do. Mick's voice was spot on and although he never did the chicken-walk, he did dance around like a madman at times. Keith and Ron took turns looking lost and not being sure which song they were playing. Darryl Jones continued to keep things moving along, although he seemed to have lost some of what he had 25 years ago when he was playing for Sting. Charlie looked like he was making as little effort as possible in playing the songs. I expected two guys in white to pull him from the stool to a wheelchair, before rolling him down the ramp, to the van which would take him to the nursing home where he spends most of his time air-drumming. Charlie's purple shirt was almost the show stopper of the night (god how brave he must be!), but Mick won out with the skin hanging down from where his triceps were hidden from sight. The skin bounced around a bit when he threw his arms up: just plain scary.