Return To The Super Bowl IV
Denny’s is talking about how much you should eat their sandwiches, lol.
Oh my gosh.
Wow. Of course.
It’s 8:41 p.m., and we’re back, folks, watching the motherfucking Super Bowl.
The audience jeers, who knows why. Thus is the nature of football and seemingly arbitrary referee decisions.
My attention sort of got pulled. All has descended into a gigantic discussion about women, men, admiration and porn.
I am reminded about discussions I have about Ted Haggard, the hypocrite himself in these new Oprahs.
“Women also have, you know, boobs and vaginas,” says Charles.
Pittsburgh now at 8:53 p.m. nearing the end zone, but with mixed results and ambitions.
Okay, technical difficulties aside, we’re back at approx. 8:57 p.m. The scores still stands at 17 – 7 Pittsburgh. Pittsburgh nails the field goal. So things change.
I guess I should feel no reason to be surprised. Again, more promotion for Home Owners, “helping homeowners.”
Strange to see. More of that same message: if you don’t own a home, you are not of attention.”
McDonalds is trying to drive home the notion that their eggs are fresh, considering that the eggs produced in the most abhorrent of circumstances, with beaks torn off. This is the reality of denial.
Wow, I have never seen a Stella Artois ad. This looks legit, and IT’S IN A KEG. “Perfection has its price” – psh, yeah, right. Another bullshit Pilsner that isn’t even a quarter as good as any Ale on the block.
The Super Bowl is now in its third quarter, with 2:11 left. Pittsburgh makes a tackle on the twenty yard line. Madden and Michaels are commenting frequently. The Cardinals are pushing toward the first down line.
Things have reversed. The Steelers are pushing at a first down. Madden is pointing out the nature of some player’s career.
Also note that Nissan is buying air time. What are we to make of the recent American bailout?
One ad, since has aired since the first quarter, is from the BMO Mastercard to remind me that I am subject to whatever joke of an insurance plan that I can manage at a certain supposed idyllic age of retirement, where everyone has assured that I have everything I need to keep the rhythm of the moment going.
So Arizona is pulling off what Michael calls “fucking drama.” DuKFuFJuebDuKFuFJueb