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So here we are again after a major broadcast event. I know it’s shocking, but this is now the fourth year in a row that I have watched the Super Bowl. I know.
I don’t have a lot to say about football itself, so I won’t.
On to commercials… the list of favorites, feel free to counter with your own, my three readers.
- Google commercial that tracked a relationship via Google searches starting with study abroad in France. I watched the commercial recap on MSNBC and let me say that we love this because it was interactive and had an engaging narrative. Memorable.
- Late Show with David Letterman commercial featuring Dave, Oprah and… Jay Leno. Understated. Awesome. I love Dave. I might be an old man inside.
- Betty White Snickers commercial. No commentary necessary.
Apparently the Doritos commercials were a big deal? Whatever. I don’t even remember them. As far as I can tell, they were incredibly stupid. Possibly because they were consumer generated. Not definitely, but possibly, I’m just pondering.
And then there was the halftime show, sparking a discussion on the recent shift in halftime acts from people like Britney to groups like The Who. And Kathleen, after asking what The Who sing proved a point by realizing that she knew every song: everyone watching knows those songs, whereas fair guess that everyone watching Britney a few years ago was not in line with her musicality. And, laser shows are still really cool, right?
Anyways, as we were watching I revealed to the company my semi-tipsy romp through the city earlier that day whilst listening to my faves, The Beatles. Time passed. And then…
Someone ( I don’t recall): The Who are really old.
Someone else: Yeah he used to be really hot.
Me: If half of The Beatles weren’t dead, that would be the best halftime show ever.
David: Oh my GOD, I was just thinking that!
Room-wide sigh of loss. David and I clutched at each other, barbecue sauce hands and all.
Of course, if the Fab Four were all still with us and gave the halftime concert, we would have to deal with a bunch of baby boomer ladies shrieking at the top of their lungs, rendering the music almost in audible. Win-lose situation really.
Also someone who shall remained unnamed forgot that Sir Paul was still alive. Not cool. Not. Cool. Just because Ringo has been all over the place lately doesn’t mean that Paul McCartney isn’t alive and wasn’t [say] mentioned in my post about the Golden Globes [for example]. Shame.
Lastly, for those of you who have been forced to endure my presence during a football game before, I bring you my annual commentary on football uniforms:
Do you think that the big guys on the Saints ever turn to their teammates in the locker room and ask, “Does this gold lamé make me look fat?”