The Super Bowl Owns You

Everything that does not involve the snap of the football at the Super Bowl is some kind of hyper inflated dreck. From the morose commercials intimating if you don’t have the right insurance your honor student will drown in a small puddle left in the bathtub to Bob Costas re-purposing his grandiose Olympics poetry for the unheralded yard marker guy or the panoramic Oaxacan front yard that is Phoenix. I get it, just a week ago this Seahawks receiver was peeking up women’s skirts at Foot Locker. That Patriot lineman was almost aborted because his seventeen year old mom didn’t know if she wanted to bring her probation officer’s baby into this world. Bring on Katy Perry and her Teletubbies show for the twelve year old girls who’ve been sitting through ninety minutes of screaming drunk grown ups waiting to see Katy in her tit-safe girdle. That’s one hour of conjugal packed into a four hour prison sentence. I wish I could quit you NFL. Same time next year then.

Photo credit: Getty Images/AKM-GSI