Wake up at ten. Cook until three. Say a prayer. Give thanks. Feast and then watch some football. This is my family tradition for Thanksgiving Day. But this year, something threw that tradition off.
The half time show, usually bombarded by country singers or American Idol contestants, was polluted with the frolicking new age Brady Bunch: the Jonas Brothers. Ten year old girls swooped to the stage to try their luck and touching the virgin, guitar playing fingers of one of the Jonas boys. My thirteen year old niece sprinted to the remote to turn the volume up full blast. Through the squeals you could slightly hear the catchy beats of the teen bop-ular boy band.
My dad and I glanced at each other, knowing full well what each other were thinking.
"What the hell is going on here?"
Are pre-teen Bonne Bell boy band fanatics really the type to be watching a football game? I could have sworn the target market was slightly more masculine. Not that I wouldn't love to have my nieces enjoy football with the rest of the family on Thanksgiving, but not at the expense of tradition. When I watch grown men chasing after a "pigskin" I'd rather the Jonas clan stay out of it.
No comments:
Post a Comment