The Super Bowl Can No Longer Entertain an Oversti
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Posted On: 02/04/2019 1:25:26 PM
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The Super Bowl Can No Longer Entertain an Overstimulated Nation
This year's Big Game was so uneventful that even the Patriots are likely struggling to be excited about it.
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An exercise robot in a Michelob Ultra ad got sad because he couldn’t get drunk, forgetting that it is physically impossible to get drunk on Michelob Ultra.
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The teams were coached by Bill Belichick, whose surname is a Croatian word that translates roughly to “sweatshirt villain,”
Everyone enjoy the irony of the Pepsi Halftime Show in the headquarters city for Coca-Cola?
By Dave Holmes
Feb 4, 2019
Pepsi Super Bowl LIII Halftime Show
Getty Images / Kevin Winter
The Patriots just won Super Bowl LIII, and I can’t imagine a world in which even they themselves are excited about it. The game itself was a long, languorous, low-scoring snoozer that had America begging for a dilly-dilly, and the pageantry surrounding it was like a dial tone turned all the the way up.
I’ll put it this way: when the highlight of the Super Bowl is thirty near-silent seconds of Andy Warhol delicately dipping a plain Whopper into a small puddle of Heinz ketchup, this nation is in turmoil.
The night began pleasantly enough, with a performance of “God Bless America” by Chloe Multiplied By Halle, who are nominated for Best New Artist in next weekend’s Grammy awards. That awards ceremony will be aired by CBS, and hosted by Alicia Keys, who it appears will be doing comedy, because America has truly lost its way.
Gladys Knight then sang “The Star-Spangled Banner,” and did not take a knee, because of course she did not take a knee, because clearly NFL snipers were stationed throughout the Mercedes-Benz Stadium. She did however do the “land of the freeEEEE” thing that all singers have been required by federal law to do since 1992.
At Least Adam Levine Took His Shirt Off
https://www.esquire.com/entertainment/tv/a261...n=15905159
The teams were coached by Bill Belichick, whose surname is a Croatian word that translates roughly to “sweatshirt villain,” and Sean McVay, who at 33 is the youngest coach in NFL history and also a braided leather belt that made a wish on the Super Blood Wolf Moon and became a Bachelorette contestant.
The quarterbacks were Tom Brady, who America seems to think it needs to have a strong opinion about, and some guy for the Rams whose name I couldn’t tell you if you gave me until midnight. I am spinning my wheels in this paragraph because the actual football, reliably the least interesting part of any Super Bowl, was especially soporific tonight.
No score at the end of the first quarter, only a field goal scored by the half, good news only for those who had 3-0 in their Super Bowl squares (which I did; drinks on me, well and draft only, limit 2, offer void in the continental United States).
Which brings us to the halftime show. From the start, Maroon 5 were a choice that were at once dull and controversial, due largely to their bold choice to record one and a half good albums and then start sounding like Satan’s girlfriend’s ringtone.
I will call this performance a solid B+, because they rested heavily on Songs About Jane, and by the time they got to this decade’s vilest earworm “Moves Like Jagger,” Adam Levine had taken his shirt off, and America’s howls of tattoo-disapproval drowned the song out.
Truly, the man is tagged up like a 1978 subway car, right down to the CALIFORNIA etched in a “Thug Life”-esque semi-circle over his navel. Imagine being Adam Levine and thinking you need to remind people you’re from Brentwood. Anyway, Travis Scott and Big Boi were there too, and everyone clearly signed a contract preventing them from doing anything interesting.
Watch All the Best Super Bowl 2019 Commercials
Commercial-wise, nothing blew the country’s hair back either. The first celebrity to show up in an ad after kickoff was Ken Jeong, currently squandering a career’s worth of goodwill on The Masked Singer.
Gillette chose not to run its 90-second toxic-masculinity spot, because “maybe don’t bully or rape” is officially too harsh a message for America’s delicate young men.
An exercise robot in a Michelob Ultra ad got sad because he couldn’t get drunk, forgetting that it is physically impossible to get drunk on Michelob Ultra.
The Property Brothers gave us some raw star power. I actually laughed at the T-Mobile ads, largely because my own mother just accidentally texted me 34 Colombian flags.
The whole thing was a chore, and I think it’s because we as a nation are simply overstimulated. Who needs a hilarious Doritos ad when your president tells his own intelligence community to go back to school and misspells the world “their” in the same tweet?
We are up to our necks in thrills, and it is aging us in dog years. We needed to be stultified, and we needed to do it together, as a nation, all at once. It’s all we have left.
The NFL may never recover, but be honest: we’ve been ready for football to be over for a minute now. Let the record show: it wasn’t racism or CTE that did it in, it was pure tedium. Football is dead, and ’twas boredom that killed the beast.
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