I had a great idea. I went to the local newspaper and suggested they score a huge Marin County coup by having an actual on-site reporter send exclusive stories direct from Super Bowl XLII in Arizona. I could report on facets of the Super Bowl relevant to Marin County but poorly covered by the national media such as: What's the difference in hot tub temperatures between the two teams? What sort of meditation exercises do the different players use to get centered before kick-off (except for the actual center, who is positioned by the referee)? And what's on the pre-game buffet table: salmon, truffles, and eggs benedict, or Jimmy Dean sausages, grits, and chicken fried steak? Curious Marinites want to know.
The powers that be explained my plan would use up their expense account budget for the year, which seems rather small-minded for me and an underhanded blow to superior journalism.
(NOTE: To maintain my journalistic integrity, I must say I did not technically submit this proposal, because I was pretty sure I'd get the above answer.)
Protesting response I'm sure I would have gotten, I am not watching the Super Bowl but I am watching the advertisements, which are the real Super Bowl because that's where the money is. The football game is just a gimmick to get a lot of people to watch the ads.
Sports competition and advertising have walked hand-in-hand throughout history. The Roman gladiator events were held in Abraham's Chariots 'R Us Coliseum. Only the last name of that venue appears in the history books; the original signage washed away over the years because Abe opted for the less expensive limestone block letters.
But nowhere has commercialism reached the peak it did last year when a 30 second ad went for $2.6 million and a reported 40 percent of the one hundred forty million viewers in over 200 countries watched the game primarily to see the ads.
There are two Super Bowls: one which takes place on the gridiron between two football teams, which would be a world championship except we won't let any other countries play with our ball. The other Super Bowl takes place during the commercial breaks between large corporate advertisers who gamble more money that day than all the bookies in Newark, New Jersey. The first contest is watched mostly by men, the latter is watched mostly by women. Someone should tell the beer companies.
With the exception of a dot.com advertising bubble in 2001 when almost half the companies advertising were pushing high-tech products, the Super Bowl ads are mostly about beer and soft drinks, cars and sports shoes. Two types of drinks and two ways to get to the drink. The exceptions in 2003 were ads from Philip Morris and the White House Office of National Drug Control Policy assuming the best time to get a drug message across is during heavy use.
Why do corporations spend such an exorbitant amount of money for a 15 or 30 second exposure? Marketers say these ads are cost effective because a) the audience for the Super Bowl is huge, and b) the audience skews toward the most desirable demographics of 18 to 34 year-olds.
But the real reason is c): while heavily drinking viewers don't focus on advertisements, they do take in the information subliminally. This is called saturation advertising. An ad will leave an imprint on an inebriated brain cell that does not have the discretionary capability of a sober brain cell. The next time that particular brain cell has too much to drink, it will remember and trigger the vocal chords to sing the Budweiser slogan. This effect lasts until it is replaced by an ad from the next Super Bowl.
Humor enhances viewer attention, but as there isn't anything inherently humorous about men drinking beer, companies often resort to animals. Of the ten top ads in 2003, six used animals: a dog, Clydesdales and zebras, a squirrel, and a biting conch shell. Everyone knows that shellfish with alcohol is funny, except in France. I, for one, can say that if I see a talking lizard drinking a specific brand of beer, I'm certainly going to try it.
The closest competitor to the Super Bowl was the TV show "Friends" whose ad rate for their final episode was 2 million dollars. What the TV networks should have done was combine the two shows. Replace 48 Super Bowl ads with the complete "Friends" final episode, which would have cost no more than the stars' salaries for the year. Everyone in the world would have watched and the rates for the remaining ads could have been tripled. Phoebe would sing the "Star Spangled Banner" followed by a rendition of "Smelly Cat."
Enough TV speculation. I have to go now. I have an irresistible urge to have a Pepsi with a Bud chaser. This would not be happening if I were at the University of Phoenix Stadium in Arizona.
(Note: to see how this article was created, read : Writing Humor Part I).
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Comments: 85
The ad people have been hoisted on their own petard.
Thanks for the laugh, John.
An aside: Where else do you write, John?
I am putting your question in my suspense file. I have found that serious thinking before coffee is a leading cause of brain hernias.
Are you sure you're not just saying this so people will respect you?
Fort Meyers. We were there two years ago and had a wonderful time. Thinking of going again this year but not until March 1st.
I write a weekly column for 4 newspapers in Marin County and a monthly one for the Chamber of Commerce publication.
No, wait. That would mean that big corporations and the television networks aren't being totally honest with us.
In America? Never.
When I realized back many years ago, that the only reason I watched the Super Bowl was for the commercials...I stopped watching. I figure I'll see these commercials later in the year on This Year's Funniest Commercials.
But
This was a fun article and I am always ready to hear Phoebe sing Smelly Cat
Sia, they only follow you to the bathroom because they don't think you've heard them. Buy their products and the commercial volume will go down.
I did a little bit on the Super Bowl commercials, but it was nowhere near this much funny, but it does have pictures and links to the commercials.
Yep, since my Pats will be methodically taking the Giants apart, let's let the ads entertain us. Anyone got $2.6M they can give me - I'd like to buy 30 seconds of SB airtime to propose to my lady. That would be cool. Of course if I had 2.6M to blow in 30 seconds, I probably wouldn't have a 'lady'. I'd probably have a harem.
BTW: Favorite ad right now; when that wolf comes through the skyroof and swallows the bird. That's a precious moment.
You have to actually watch the game and then you can see with your "game eyes" the real ad underneath the cover ad.
The Giants are a good team on a role and have that "no one expects us to win" thing going for them.
(Robert, you may have gotten in some trouble with your comment. I'd have a shovel ready. In your case, the shovel is dual purpose: you can use it to dig a hole and hide (as in The Manly Art of Digging Holes) or use it to keep shoveling the sh** faster than she can react))
But it's watching ads that keeps the economy going, so THEY don't care if you watch the game.
I go to my son's for Super Bowl. His wife waits until the teams are picked and then plans the food around the cities. It's the best food when New Orleans is in the Super Bowl — or even if they just use their stadium.
(Though I gather "blackened" is a seasoning not a burnt dish. That's what I'm told. Not interested enough to go googling for the answer though.)
*Don't worry, the strudel itself was fine. I was just reheating part of it and forgot to set the timer.
The connection is obvious and staring you in the face everytime those big Roman numerals flash across the screen.
42 is the meaning of life, according to Adams' works.
Maybe this mean this Super Bowl will be more than the dud game it usually is.
These "related articles" are selected by gather. The authors have nothing to do with it. Who knows, maybe it will get better.
Don't answer that.
For live sports events, we start the tape, and watch something else for 30 minutes until we've build up enough time reserve to skip forward, usually ending in real time.
Slightly depressing because I doubt I fit either.