I’m so over Super Bowl commercials. And for that matter the Super Bowl itself, that national corporate sports orgy for the One Percent paid for by the tax-paying gullible proletariat who “like to watch” the gladiators while the rulers “play” from their skyboxes. Yes, a distraction from work, from ills, from the daily drone of life, The Super Bowl offers a temporary reprieve and escape.
After only 50 years The Super Bowl has established itself as a bedrock symbol of our culture. We accept its ubiquitous residency in our lives, finely woven like a 1,000 thread-count flag blowing across the face our national psyche. From the opening mock patriotic military salutes, mawkish contestant renditions of a song celebrating bombs and war … Vegas odds on how long will Lady GaGa stretch out the last notes to break the record for longest public singing of this national anthem…military jets swooping like mad screaming birds of prey over the stadium; extravagant intermission displays of pop(ular) music…spectacles on par with anything produced by Chinese or North Korean governments. A synchronized national corporate effort to appeal to the masses, slake our thirst for violence with highly paid yet expendable surrogates, to inspire us to aspire, to consume, to eat more Cheetos. The athletic efforts on the field merely a pretense for the 30 sec commercial propaganda spots imploring us to spend our wages to enrich those wise men in their high skybox castles.
And let’s dismiss with the conceit that at least these commercial productions represent high art, or are at a minimum creative, original, humorous or inspiring. Once upon a time Apple produced a commercial (“1984”) to introduce the MacIntosh computer. This was the first and last truly creative effort shown during a Super Bowl game. This commercial set the standard, propagated and set in motion the deluded cult of the Super Bowl Commercials. What we are subjected to now are watered-down attempts at humor often exploiting children and animals. This year one advertiser actually hit the sweet spot of commercial crassness with a creature comprised of a baby, a monkey and a dog. A puppy. Awwww..horses, awwww…guys acting the fool while wifey rolls her eyes and shows him how it’s really done. People dancing. If the proverbial aliens picked up signals of these commercials they would think that all humans do is dance. Well, we also get constipation, diarrhea and toenail fungus on the bungus.. but that’s another matter.
Ah, Super Bowl, I am so over you. At least until next year when the half time show features our national Poet Laureate in a “Salute to American Poetry.” And of course the Chicago Bears beat the Oakland Raiders.
(read more like this and not like this at my blog: praajek.com)