It's Super Bowl Weekend! This year is Super Bowl XLIX which I believe stands for "Super Bowl Extra Licks" in reference to the Buffalo dip bowl. Many North American households are preparing for the big game tomorrow, as Velveeta shareholders gather at private parties where they watch online as their processed cheese stock goes up to "just paid off the cottage" levels.
This year's Super Bowl competitors are "The Blue Team," and "The Other Blue Team," where, for a few hours this coming Sunday, the two sides will, in a rough-and-tumble manner, pass a mottled, possibly under-inflated oddly-shaped ball back and forth on a field segmented with various lines and numbers with the goal of accumulating the most points. How these points are determined I am not sure, because I spent my high school years getting felt up under the bleachers rather than watching the game. But I will be watching the Super Bowl on Sunday because: a.) snacks wrapped with cheese; b.) Super Bowl commercials; c.) snacks dipped in cheese.
Super Bowl commercials are big business. The Super Bowl half-time show is important, yes, but Katy Perry won't come onto the field until hours into the proceedings, but who cares when you can watch women's equality get set back 50 years within the first 15 minutes? Also, puppies.
The advertising community is watching, too. Commercial broadcast time during Sportsball Adventure Day costs something akin to the National Gross Product of developing nations, but who gives a shit, because we want to sell hamburgers. And that's just the production cost. This year's commercials feature Kim Kardashian, Pierce Brosnan, and a series of anmals who I'm sure don't come cheap or work without all-white dressing rooms. So here you go: some of the best commercials running during this year's Super Bowl XLIX.
But let's start with the one that won't run:
Go Daddy pulled this commercial last minute after test audiences said "No; Just, NO." (That or the ads producer's partner vowed to withhold "extras"; it's unclear.) At any rate, you won't see it on TV, but you can see it here. It's decidedly ugh but realistic, because people are cold, and sorry - puppies are a commodity in a huge industry.
Still mad? Budweiser will fix that. I like to pretend this puppy is the one that got dumped by the cold bitch in the previous clip.
What are they selling? Fresh fruit? Lingerie? Hose adapters, or ice shaving tools? Is this for Home Depot? I can't tell and there's a naked woman walking around and no one seems concerned. What is happening here? Oh yes; meat food.
I will vouch for this commercial and the validity of the word/premise "hangry" because I was once so hungry during a road trip to Buffalo that...wait. I just checked the calendar and I actually can't talk about it until the judge renders her decision. A hint: You can turn a Taco Bell bathroom into a makeshift confession booth/peep show.
I unapologetically love Kim Kardashian because yeah, sure, she can be vapid and self-centred but I love people with passion and she does vapid and self-centred passionately. In this data-piece, she pokes fun at herself and I am at the point in my life where there is more track behind me than ahead, so if a stunning woman with no clear or remarkable skill-set is famous due to a sex-tape catalyst, my "give-a-fuck" trunk is empty.
Oh! A commercial for the men! Quelle surprise! During a 100% male sporting event on a television station run mostly by penis-havers and produced by men. Dove shows us here that some men are dads and they're so awesome at it that only smelling like "Tropical Thunder Jungle" or "Steel Leather" or "Sperm Man Scratch-Balls Testoster-Run" could improve their setting on the Man-o-meter. Look at these guys; they're amazing dads. Crap; I hate this. I wish I had one of those hugging-dads. Seriously, do all dads hug this much? What about the dads who just grunt and ask you to make them French fries, or pick them up some smokes?
WHAT IS THIS LIQUID IN MY EYE HOLES I HATE YOU DOVE YOU BASTARDS
Just gonna say this: If you hit your partner, you're an asshole of the highest order, who should be punished in ways my mostly anti-violence viewpoint cannot reconcile. I hope you fall in a hole full of bears who have poisonous snakes for arms. I hope those bears are really, really hungry and have not even heard of a Snickers bar, you prick.
No.
(Disclaimer: I own several bras, all in a colour I choose to call "champagne." My partner calls them "old white lady flesh-colour" and says when I wear them I resemble the cloth underbody of a gender-less doll, but whom I love anyway because he never complains if I order take-out three nights running and there is almost literally never any clean laundry, and he calls my stretch marks "bad-ass." Make THAT sexy to the masses, Victoria, because I would watch the shit outta that fashion show.)
Pierce Brosnan is not James Bond. And for this we are glad, because if Pierce Brosnan were James Bond, we would have no Pierce Brosnan and that's a world I don't know I want to live in. I think there's a car in here somewhere but I'm thinking about what I'd ask Pierce to do with me in a wintry cabin. I also imagine he LOVES flesh-colour bras and stretch marks.
McDonald's will invite random customers to "pay with love." I've done a lot worse for a lot less in a McDonalds restaurant.
This commercial kicks ass #LikeAGirl.*
*fully, and in a most awesome and admirable fashion
Presented without comment. Wait, comment: Slow clap, Ultraviolet. Slooooow clap.
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