I watched the Orange Bowl Tuesday night, like millions of other Americans. The first half was all USC. When halftime arrived, I sat at the kitchen table, watching the TV from a room away. Because of the distance, the sound seemed lower than it was if I was right there in front of the screen. I started to enjoy a fine meal. I felt safe and secure.
When Ashlee came on and began to perform, though, I literally dropped my fork. Then I cupped my hands over my ears, but it didn?t help. Ashlee?s singing sounded like a cross between a political prisoner being tortured and a test of the Emergency Broadcast System.
I desperately searched for the remote so I could hit the mute button, but I must have misplaced it. But I also couldn?t believe that someone didn?t rush the stage and stop her. The local police. The FBI. Homeland security. Even an angry mob of vigilantes. Instead, they just let her keep going. I?ve never felt so helpless or vulnerable in my life.
I happened to look out the window and noticed that some of my neighbors were running down the street, their hands over their ears, screaming for help. I wanted to help them, I really did. Yet I was gripped by horror and disbelief. I was practically catatonic. For their sake ? and for mine ? all I could hope for was a swift end to the halftime show.
Shrieking like a hyena giving birth, she closed her ?song? with something that approximates the phrase, ?you make we wanna SCREAM!? And then she waited for applause.
Instead, she got boos, the kind of irate and vindictive boos that usually occur after a pro wrestler taunts a crowd. Through the cacophony, the gentle strains of ?You suck!? could be heard. Ashlee was escorted off the stage and through a tunnel, and let?s just say the Indiana Pacers were received more warmly by Detroit fans when they walked toward the locker room after the brawl.