So. . . who are you?

I paid zero attention to the Super Bowl this year.

Zero.

When everyone e-mailed me and asked me who I was rooting for, New York or New England, my answer was always the same:

Neither. They're both a couple of Yankee teams and I hope they both lose.

In college bowl games, if I didn't have a dog in the hunt, I would always root for southernmost team. So in this case, New York is further south than Boston, so I guess it's okay that they won.

But I really didn't care and don't care and will never care.

One thing that did strike me, however, was when browsing The Drudge Report, I ran into one of those stories that has a sidebar link that leads you to another sidebar link that leads you to another.

Boring Monday afternoon, so I kept clicking. And I found this, Celebrities spotted at the Super Bowl.

I need to update the Fios in the cave next to the rock I must be living under, because there are sixty-two pictures of celebrities here and I only recognized a few. I didn't recognize any of the (so-called) super-models, and most of the television actors I didn't recognize.

Most of the shows that I watch involve fishing or hunting or shooting or flying, which negates that fat, obnoxious son of a bitch Alex Baldwin, who I did recognize. Hard to miss that slob's ugly visage anywhere.

I recognized Madonna, even though she had her clothes on, and I recognized Stephen Tyler. Maybe a few others, but for all the other (so-called) celebrities, I was left wondering,

Who the hell are you and what makes you a celebrity?

Or more importantly, why should I care?