Inexcusable Super Bowl XLV Performance

I cannot fathom how a performer can butcher such an iconic masterpiece, and on that stage. She’s a professional singer, should know her capabilities better than anyone, and should never have allowed herself to be talked into such a monumental spot. That song, 111 million viewers, better know you can knock it out of the park. Didn't happen, but at least she got the words right.
Huh? Yeah, I’m referring to Fergie’s version of Sweet Child of Mine, not C.Ag’s National Anthem. In fact, it would have been much better if Fergie had jumbled some words but put everything she had into the song instead of mono-toning on stage there next to Slash. In the face of such a heartless cover, I started to wonder two things. First, if Fergie’s ever really heard Axl sing Sweet Child, and more importantly, what must have transpired to get her to agree to do a piece so painfully out of her “range”? By that I mean a real song with notes and stuff that her legs can’t co-sing on.  I don’t wish to be excessively harsh (too late?), I’m probably a little tired of The Black Eyed Peas ubiquity, but a Speak & Spell would’ve equaled that performance.
Aside: how much buzz would there have been today if Slash had slammed on his axe leaning against a giant Speak & Spell doing Sweet Child, then, song complete, crowd freaking out, turned and put his top hat on the S&S? Uh, yeah, A LOT. And it would prove, once again, that Slash makes anything cool.
To answer my “how did this happen?” wonderment, because we'll never know for sure, I dreamed up the following interface between The Peas and a SB producer/NFL executive over mimosas and platypus-egg omelets in the lusciously gilded dining room at NFL headquarters. (You should know that I only know Will I Am and Fergie from The Peas and refuse to look up the names of the other two. And I doubt anybody eats platypus-egg omelets.)

Nooooooo!

Here goes:
Producer: “Hey, Peas, do Sweet Child with Slash at the Super Bowl.”
Will I Am: “Money. What song? Who? Money. Fergie’ll do it. Money.”
P: “Great. It’s a rock song from way back. Guns N’ Roses.”
Fergie: “I’m not really familiar, and I’m an artist so I need specifics. What real music does it sample? What’s the line?”
WIA: “Attention. This is the worst plat-egg omelet I’ve ever had. Lights.”
P: “We’ll get you another. New chef. Ferg, it’s a whole song, with a few lines, no sampling, but not too complicated. I think it has two verses, about familiar stuff like smiles, the sky, hair, pain, and rain, but you probably won’t have to do it all.”
F: “Two verses? Damn. So, I can rap it?”
WIA (mouth full of rare eggs): “Money. Let’s talk about my lights. Attention.”
P: “Will, I have some bad news for you. We can’t sign off on the lexan protective shield for your hair.”
WIA: “Attention. The one molded to my hair, that lights up? Money.”
P: “Sadly, yes. You and the other two guys are taxing the Dallas/Ft Worth grid too heavily already, we couldn’t make it work.”
WIA: “Attention. Without that shield and lights on it, the show’ll be ruined. Nobody’ll see lights on my head. Money.”
P: “Sorry, but I like that I know what’s important to you. Ferg, what do you think about my pitch?”
F: “I really prefer to rap and maybe sing a word or two when I jump. It helps me stay real with the audience. You know, connect without a bunch of thinking on either end getting in the way.”
P: “That’s why the NFL chose you guys. You’re so real, so organic. Your audience interface
is flashy and quick, but not so memorable as to overshadow the game. Like a confidence man. In a good way…for us.”

WIA: “Attention. Ferg, they f*&king with my head wardrobe and lights. What the f&*k? Lights.”

F: “We’ve been around, you know? I’ll play ball and do the “song” or whatever, but you’ve got to give Willie his hair shield and lights.”
P: “Mmm. Hardball, eh? It’ll be a tough one to get through committee. Goodell’s head is already about to explode from the costume sketches he’s seen, and he just thinks the hair shield is too bizarre. He says you all look alarmingly like that freak Dynamo in The Running Man, and do you know what could happen to you guys if it rains?”

WIA & F: “Money. Who’s Dynamo? Lights.”

P: “Ambiguously sexed singing bad guy from a Schwarzenegger film who harnessed electricity for weapons…and to seduce the audience. Hmmm. Incidentally, made the same year Sweet Child of Mine was released.”

WIA: “Lights? Sounds awesome. Money. Can I meet him? Lights.”

P: “No. He’s just a character, and Erland van Lidth, who portrayed Dynamo, died the year the movie came out.”

F: “Get Will his hair shield and I’ll do the children’s song.”

P: “Sweet Child of Mine. Not a children’s song.”
F: “Does Willie get his plastic hat?”

WIA: “Lights. ‘Lettuce Wrap’. Money.”

F: (With crinkled eyebrows) “Right, his Lettuce Wrap.”

P: “He may have the lexan lettuce wrap. No lights.”

F: “Will?”

WIA: (in mopey voice)“Attention. Fine. No lettuce lights. Pout.”

P: “Grand. We’re settled. Ferg, I’ll have somebody get you the particulars, and help you get those vocal chords ready to rock. Though, scream is probably a more apt term.”

F: “Wait, what?”

P: “Oh, and we’ll get you in touch with Slash.”

F: “Who’s Slash?”

P: “Oh, f&*king hell.”
WIA: “Money. Where’s my omelet? Lettuce.”

That’s the BWTrotter version of how Fergie came to destroy one of the finest rock songs ever produced for a whole generation of kids. At least they got to see Slash.

Congratulations to the Green Bay Packer organization, Packer fans, and all the former Buckeyes on the roster. Sleep tight.