No different last night. The games last an eternity in their entirety nowadays. Not good for live entertainment -- and live television is the only reason the Super Bowl and the NFL even exist. Three hours of ads, and a hour featuring steroid-pumpin' bible-thumpin' Athletes in Action with fugly tattoos making an obscene amount of money just for tossing a pigskin ball to each other. Some even fumbling and mumbling but getting away with with.
But I did catch a few spots, twelve minutes of halftime, and the exciting last Forty-nine seconds of the game when it finally got interesting.
Oh, the TV commercials...
- Obama's: Kicked ass. Smart regional spots. $250k 1/4th ad rate.
- Planters: Yes. More please.
- Go Daddy: Go away.
- Under Armour: Baltimore sucks. Always will. Get over it.
- Mencia: Ugh.
- Victoria Secrets' virgins: Touching, very touching.
Halftime show was pretty solid. The producers were from San Francisco's Nocturne, and they know what they're doing. Tom Petty knows what he's doing too, and his deadpan delivery was complimented nicely by his Heartbreakers who have seemingly bypassed Tom in the looking cool on stage department -- like Fender-bender Mike Campbell and percussionario Steve Ferrone. The performance started light, but came off on fire. A slow and steady burn. Classic Petty.It wasn't a good night for the other Tom, the wholesome Brady Bunch kid from the Bay Area whose Bundchen may be running off to the next dude at her doorstep beginning with Fashion Week 2008, which kicks off today.
Oh, and Kal Penn cameoed on HOUSE after the telecast. I'm a better thesp than Kalpen. He just has a better agent. Hmm, I don't even have one of those anymore. But hey I'm just an unimportant mofo with delusional thoughts, stuck here in a blog jam. So don't mind me.
Super Bowl XLII: "Come for the game, Stay awake for the ads."
