A Half-Time Defense of JT

"Can't stop the feeling..."

Super Bowl Sunday, the SJG-version: When I came back from dance class, taught by a 79-year-old dance maven who admitted to feeling "meh," or, as I like to call it, Yiddishly, "schva," I knew I'd be entering a happy house. The Eagles were ahead... oh wait... then they're weren't... then they were and they won. Hurray! Score one for the underdogs! Of course, my main question had nothing to do with the game: "How was Justin?" The family's collective review landed in the vicinity of "meh," aka Yawnsville. "What's wrong with you people?" I asked, fighting tears. "Ma, we're watching the game!" a son snapped. Well, excuse me for living 60 years, each and every one as a fan of dance.

So this morning, only moments ago, I had to watch Justin T's half-time extravaganza myself, as opposed to last night, which was way too emotional, post-"This Is Us." I needed to sit with those raw emotions before cranking up the music. "Come on, Justin," I said to my virus-free Mac, kina hora poo poo poo, "let me see what you're twerking with." He opened with this: "Haters gonna hate." But the SJG? It's a JT love fest -- 13 minutes of much-needed joy and spectacular dancing, a pop medley of hits and a purple tribute to Minneapolis' own Prince.  I mean, come on, how great was that? So great I may have to watch it again. All I can say to the critics, including the ones I personally birthed, is this: "Lighten up, bitches. It's JT."