Superbowl Sunday.  Big questions remain. Like how much pain is Madonna in today?

The longest game in history is finally over.  I think there were more commercials than there was actual football playing. I have so many questions.  Like, why didn't Bob Costas finish the face work by adding some botox to the side of his eyes?  A facelift?  Really, Bob? Tough to look at while inter-cutting with shots of Mr. Football McDreamy, Tom Brady.  It's okay.  I still like you, Bob.  Speaking of face work. Madonna.  Aside from wondering who her surgeon is, I kinda felt bad for her.

Madonna performed her ass off during halftime as if she were 20 years old.  Only now, she is in the body of a 50-something year old.  As good as she looks, those deep crunch dance moves should be killing her about now.  Hope she brought some ice packs to Indianapolis. That and all that dancing in heels, hope she had the gel inserts in them boots. Something about aging gracefully that is not in her DNA.  Something about that cartwheel over a dancer that seemed, well, just wrong.

Finally, I think the message from the Super Bowl is to drink Bud Light or Coca Cola in any number of cars.  After you are done with that, you might want to tune in to see who won.