He's kind of like a little elf corvette

When I was in high school (with Father Abraham, of course), Prince's birthday was one of the biggest non-official holidays - the others being Valentine's Day, Halloween and, of course, International Cutting Day. Girls of all colors and creeds would unite to wear purple, and ocassionally swoon even as the Purple One himself was denying his Warners Slave Name and picking up a new symbol - based on that extra chromosome running around in his chapless genes - for his new name.

So, it seemed ironic to me that at the smallest Super Bowl party in Chicago this year, I found myself defending Prince against a couple of women. I was vastly outnumbered, but I tried to quiet my wife and hostess (not always a good idea, mind you) and educate them on the sweet goodness that was coming out of that man's guitar. Not to mention the songs, the percussion, the stripped-down production (just his old name-thingie, a handful of guitars, Sheila E.[?] on drums, a lit-up college marching band, somewhat clumsy and distracting dancers, a kerchief on his head [is he still mad at Warner?], and fireworks at the end), the lively way he cut into that guitar demonstrating that not only is his name Prince, and he is funky, but he can play the guitar just like a'ringing the bell. And it added a bit of effeminate coolness to the game (unheard of the last time the Bears played of course). But coolness, nonetheless. This is the man whose music provided Jack Nicholson's entrance in Batman, after all.

And so his version of CCR via Ike & Tina's "Proud Mary" and Dylan sans Jimi "All Along the Watchtower" may not have been perfection (the volume was, of course, low on our set, so I can't be sure), but it was a thing of beauty. I'm of course referring to the music, not Prince.

Try not to stare too hard for another NippleGate.

Then again, he was wearing Bears colors. Lovie should wear that on the sidelines next year.