Super

I got home a bit late tonight after work, eager to watch the big game. And boy, did it ever live up to expectations; I never expected a Timberwolves-Kings game to be so exciting! Okay, seriously, the big one. With so much having gone on this fateful night, it’s hard to focus one’s thoughts into a cohesive (and, of course, enjoyable) discourse for my loyal readers. Nevertheless, I’ll attempt to start with the commercial spectacle the NFL’s championship game has become. This year showcased the very pinnacle of what money can buy–whether it be advertisements, network executives, pop stars, or the loss of one’s dignity in the face of such all-encompassing greed. You can’t help but come away from Super Bowl Sunday feeling like you need a shower to wash off all the sleaze and amorality of what you’ve just witnessed. As funny as it may seem (and I admit–I was laughing out loud at this), what does it say about a culture when one of the most popular commercials is that of a horse farting on a woman? What does it say about us as a people when we laugh at it? It’s bad enough it was conceived in some advertising brain trust’s boardroom ont eh 80th floor of a gleaming skyscraper–the thing that gets me is that the American public-at-large has lowered itself to this level–and these ad execs know it! I’m not quite sure what’s worse: that we happily welcome these ads; or that there are executives who knows this and want to capitalize on it to make that very last cent–to scratch, claw and bit their way to every last buck, damn whatever moral credos and standards lay in their way. It makes me feel queasy just thinking about it.

That the American public so willingly takes in displays like that of the Super Bowl’s utter commercialism is frightening. We live in an age when our elections are a choice between lesser evils, when politicians and their countless advisers work long hours into the night before a speech, framing every phrase, syllable, enunciation and wink so as not to offend this constituent or that constituent. It’s become a game with the objective being the path of least resistance. It’s no longer (and I’m not sure it ever was) about taking a stand on an issue and bearing the consequences without regard for political correctness–it’s become about saying what fits a specific moment, what fits a specific audience, what fits Joe Sixpack sitting in his Barcalounger. It’s not about what John Kerry thinks is right, it’s about what his opponent does wrong. Will there ever come a time when a politician stands at a dais and says "this is me, this is what I stand for. I speak for myself and no one else. If you like what you hear, then by all means, give me your vote and I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen." Instead we get an endless cycle of mudslinging and bickering–forget any valuable discourse on the state of affairs of the country, or what we can do to change things for the better. It’s become a rat race to see who can get to the top of the heap the fastest–and oh yeah, if you vote for me I promise to lower taxes, create jobs and protect the environment. HORSESHIT!

Anyway, back to what really matters–commercials with the gold standard for comedy: chimps! By far the best Super Bowl commercials in history have featured chimpanzees prominently–the E-Trade commercial comes to mind. And just think what kind of impact chimps could have had if they had been embraced much sooner by the advertising industry. That Apple "1984" commercial? Throw chimps into the mix and you’ve got freakin’ Gone with the Wind! And you can’t tell me that a horse farting on a chimp wouldn’t be knee-slapping good fun!

As for the game itself, I’ve heard it mentioned as being "the best of all time." Whoa there, fellas. While it was a great game, much of the first half (about 27 minutes to be exact) was filled with sloppy and boring play. Say what you want about a defensive battle; just doesn’t do it for me–and it wasn’t doing it for me Sunday night. Not until the Patriots finally eeked their way into the end zone did the game begin to pick up some "Joementum." (And by the way, when did Lieberman become a huge joke of a candidate? Wasn’t he a pretty favorable-looking veep a few years back?) While Jake Delhomme’s and Tom Brady’s performances were admirable, by no means do they compare with John Elway’s heroics in ’98 against the Packers, or Montana’s grace under pressure in ’90 against the Bengals. Good performances by Brady and Delhomme, but they’re not the stuff legends are made of.

Dichotomy of the Week: I’ve listened to two songs over and over again over the last 24 hours: Incubus – Megalomaniac, and Britney Spears – Toxic. Something’s wrong with this picture. Was it me that just railed against indecency and outrageous amorality in the media? Oh well, I’m not part of the solution so I may as well be part of the problem.

You’re toxic, I’m slipping under. Until next time, me laddies.

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