No Super Bowl performance will ever top the bizarre 1995 halftime show. The spectacle included some kind of bizarre ritual involving the super bowl trophy and Patti Labelle emerging as a satanic goddess in head to toe red sequins. She belts out a bunch of unrelated songs and then Indiana Jones parachutes in and Tony Bennet shows up and nothing makes any kind of sense (catch the Snakes playing drums they keep cutting to just to torment me, WHY ARE THERE SNAKES PLAYING DRUMS?? SNAKES DON’t HAVE ARMS! WHY???)
i love this. the song to the… performance is to Seal’s cover of James Brown’s Its A Man’s World
- You were up front with Marty when you had first started dating, what you do Thursday through Saturday - Honesty is the best policy, since your moonlighting gig had ruined relationships before - He was the furthest thing from mad, indeed he was almost intrigued - You got the opportunity a couple month into your relationship to invite him to one of your performances - You were pacing nervously in the dressing room, and your fellow dancers were just smirking, knowing it was because you were a smitten kitten - You were up in thirty seconds, and you made the executive decision to grab just one last prop… A luxurious and overlarge white fur coat. - The opening had you sauntering down the narrow aisle to the stage, a simper on your face, the fur coat dusting the ground - You could spy Marty from the corner of your eyes, his mouth agape and a stunned, almost lovestruck look on his face - The story of your opening performance tonight was that of a lonely career woman who went to bed alone every night - And as soon as you dropped the fur coat on the floor of the stage, which was set up to look like a boudoir, you could feel the heat of Marty’s eyes intensify - You had chosen the black dress that had exposed as much of the Cuban heel stockings as possible, which you had a feeling the Villain in your life would appreciate - You could barely see him with the bright stage lights on you, but it felt like everyone else had disappeared, and it was just you and him in the small darkened theater - It was with rolls of your hips, shimmies of your shoulders, and exaggerated flicks of your hair that your clothing slowly began to be stripped off - With every article of clothing, you cast a coy glance to the crowd, your eyes always stopping a little too long on Marty - His hands gripped his thighs so tight, his knuckles were white - His jaw was clenched and his Adam’s apple bobbing as he wet his lips - You had to fight a shiver at the predatory look in his eyes as he got a glimpse of the silver pasties that were concealing your nipples from the audience - He discreetly shifted in his chair as you began to writhe in the boudoir chair, the sequined garter belt glinting in the fading stage lights as your number came to an end and the last chords of the song faded - Marty: When we get home, you’re not going to be able to walk for a couple of days.