Don't Get All Bent Outta Shape

A new logo for Indy.

Our Annual National Feast and Holy Day of Obligation

Pardon us, world, but this is our religion, and this morning even the space shuttle decided not to take off in deference to the Mighty Game at Hand. And we don't care if you prefer your silly soccer that you jokingly call football over our game. You WILL watch our game. And your commerce shall cease as all your eyes turn this way to marvel at our ability to put on a giant show.

By now you should know the back stories. There's a guy who is helping survivors of Hurricane Katrina. Or maybe there are a bunch of those guys. There's another whose uncle recently died, and on his deathbed he told his nephew, "You must win the Super Bowl or my soul shall never be at rest." And he gasped his last and gripped the nephew's hand, pressing a special heirloom trinket into it, which the young player now keeps in his locker and kisses before every game. There's the quarterback hand-picked by God himself to deliver a city from its trials, and anyone who's ever been to Indianapolis knows what a trying city it can be. Then there's fate, destiny and many titles to be bestowed on various players by washed-up-jock columnists and cliche-spouting talking heads. Someone will be the MVP, another will play with more heart and soul and grit and temerity, (they love that word and once they love a word, expect them all to use it) and another will be carted off the turf, giving a guilt-freeing thumbs-up to us all as we applaud his sacrifice on the field of battle and the temerity with which he played the game, perhaps this being his very last, tragically. Now let's get back to smashing heads and finding out more about the breast cancer of the second string defensive end's mother-in-law. 

I love football. It's a fun sport. But I hate the Super Bowl and what it has become. I will probably laugh at a few commercials and cringe at others that involve Danica Patrick and that smarmy GoDaddy CEO. But as in the past, I am not engaging in what has become as much a part of this game as a sad old band playing their greatest hits at halftime, the business of reviewing Super Bowl ads. That will be handled on countless blogs by more accurate and fairer reviewers. I will enjoy some wings and beer though, I'm pretty sure. My country expects no less from me.

About That Tim Tebow Anti-Abortion SuperBowl Ad

 

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The Ad That Launched a Thousand GoDaddy Crap Ads

This is said to be the ad that started the Super Bowl ad wars, when the commercials themselves started to get as much (or more) attention as the game. I am too lazy to research this right now, so just watch it and believe me.

Your Refuge From Super Bowl Ad Analysis

Bigness

This is that time of year when our colleagues in Europe, South America, Asia and everywhere else say to each other, "Fucking Americans. They think the Super Bowl stops the world and is the end-all showcase of good stuff. I don't know about you guys, but I got work to do." The more indignant of the group say, "We must resist the strident dogma and imperialistic designs of the American advertising culture! Rise up, brothers! Fight!"

It's now beyond stupid. Sean Hannity was previewing Super Bowl ads on his show and telling us which ones are good.

There is more than enough Super Bowl ad review, tweeting and blogging going on without me weighing in as well to give you one more OPINION on what worked and what didn't. Or what will work, since many of the ads are now pre-screening at your favorite ad blog right now.

I will watch the game. I will watch the commercials. I will not update my Facebook status with "Coke ad very funny!" nor will I be live-blogging the spots. I won't join in the pointless debate about who made best use of their $300 zillion 30-second buy.

Who cares? And what do any of us know? I'm just going to enjoy the show, the spectacle, the joke that is now the battle for the Vince Lombardi Trophy. I will also attempt to stomach the halftime show, with God's gift to songwriting weighing in on how to fix America. We sit at your feet, Bruce Almighty, awaiting your instructions. What? Love one another? You are such a genius! (That's just my opinion.)

If you are not the Super Bowl watching type and want to get away to see a movie in a likely-empty theater, I suggest Gran Torino. Saw it yesterday afternoon. It's Eastwood as we like him: Badass. Even at 78, the guy is cool. I know the movie got ripped by many critics who thought it was "ham-fisted" and telegraphed, but those are just opinions from critics. You'll like it or you won't. Just like Super Bowl ads. In this instant-analysis social media era, we're all nothing more than a smörgåsbord of critics and pundits. You've got your followers and you've got the ones you follow.

But it's a damned ugly car...if you ask me.

The Super Bowl Promos Have Begun

And at the risk of angering a bunch of readers, (and in particular the New Jersey readers) the promos feature one of the world's most overrated musicians—Mr. America, Mr. Blue-Collar, Mr. Common Man of the People, Mr. National Treasure, The Boss—this dude.

The Super Bowl halftime show, sure to be blogged about my millions, blessed by the Pope and reviewed live via satellite by President Obama, will feature a bunch of BS.

Not a fan of BS, myself, and that should be OK. I should be allowed to say, "I don't like BS." But BS fans are zealots. You mustn't doubt the power of the BS. Do not knock the BS. It usually goes like this,"Man, you just need to listen to [insert favorite BS album title here] and then you'll understand that he's a poet. An artist. He's a fuckin' genius, Man."

And one of these days I'll piss off some more people with my list of the most overrated musical acts in the history of the world. (Hint: one of the acts is a long-defunct quartet from Liverpool, and the two surviving members were easily the shittiest of the four.)

Line Up The Endorsements for Eli

My Dad was riding his bike in the woods yesterday and saw a panther. Seriously. Up around Ormond Beach. The giant cat was lounging in the middle of the trail 50 yards ahead of him. Dad wisely made a U-turn. There are only supposed to be 80 to 100 panthers left in Florida, so that was sort of cool. Speaking of panthers, they’re from North Carolina. I mean the football Panthers of the NFL. Speaking of the NFL, there was a game last night. It was not all it was advertised to be. It was supposed to be the crowning of a dynasty. We were supposed to be worshipping today at the altar of the Best Team To Ever Walk Onto A Field In The History Of The Universe – Starring Tom Brady As The Messiah King Of Kings, With A Special Appearance By The Creator Of All That Is And Will Ever Be, Bill Belichick.

Nobody likes a dynasty and everybody likes a Cinderella story. Well over 75% of football fans were rooting for exactly what happened*. And if anyone saw the post game interview with New England coach Bill Belichick, you saw a man who fully bought all the hype and praise the media had heaped on him and his team. And he didn’t know how to handle a loss. He couldn’t even say, “The Giants played a great game.”

As for the commercials…what can be said that isn't being said elsewhere and beyond? I suspect aliens on other planets are talking about those commercials by now. Some were great (talking baby for eTrade), some striving way too hard (heart jumping from woman’s chest for CareerBuilder) and some just flat-out stoopid with a capital WTF (Chinese stereotyped pandas for Sales Genie).

I've never been much of a Giants fan. Until last night. I’m thinking maybe this game was a foreshadowing of the fall of another prematurely crowned dynasty.

*Unsubstantiated percentage based on this author's personal dislike of the Patriots.

SuperBowl Consumer Mindshare

Don't believe me? Witness the coal-raking Angela is undergoing over at AdRants.

A Super Bowl Guarantee

My closet is shamed to hold this formerly lovely longsleeve T-shirt.

My team won't be there, but maybe your brand can be. CBS has sold only about 70% of the game's inventory, so if you've got $2.6 million, it's time to act.

Bill Green over at Make the Logo Bigger is issuing his version of Joe Namath's Super Bowl Guarantee. Bill will deliver you a much-talked-about :30 spot that runs during the big game. Or a series of spots if you've really got the urge to make a name for yourself.

From Mr. Green is this deal-clincher: "The charge? None. Free. Zilch. Not one fee for creative. No fee for production either. No mark-up on anything. You buy the slot. That’s it."

He's revealed to me the payoff and it's really a fine idea. Take him up on it if you've got the guts and the cash.