If We Took a Holiday

Thanks to precise and effective marketing, many Americans have been tricked into believing in two patent falsehoods:

(1) Thanksgiving tradition is really all about the frenzied overnight Black Friday shopping.

(2) Super Bowl tradition is really all about the grotesque parade of ads.

This means at least one these statements is true:

(1)  Media marketing is madly powerful.

(2)  Americans are gullible.

Certainly it’s a little of both. Truthfully, the Super Bowl commercials do deserve a place in the whole Super Bowl experience; they have earned an acclaimed reputation and have evolved with the game itself. Also, there’s not many people who appreciate the art of creative advertising more than I do. But the reason I’m resentful is because I believe Thanksgiving and Super Bowl Sunday are two 100% authentic and proud American traditions that advertisers and businesses are encroaching on. They’re trying so hard - It’s like they’re crashing our party, saying, “Hey we know y’all are just having an innocent good time, but we’d like to sell you a bunch of shit and get your money. In fact, you need to divert your attention from the game and your family, and make us the primary focus. Yea, this party is all about us now!” They've taken our holiday.

I will always reject this consumerist pressure because it’s antithetical to what these holidays are really about, I call them the “4 F’s”: football, food, friends, and family. I really only care about three holidays – one is Halloween, and the other two, of course, are Thanksgiving and Super Bowl Sunday. Whore up Christmas all you want – but Jesus Christ – let me have a few sacred, secular traditions, PLEASE!

I can guarantee you I haven’t been “marketed” into being a die-hard football fan. I don’t love the NFL for the hoopla, I love it because it’s an institution I was born into. When I was a wittle boy, I learned the alphabet, then my numbers, then all of the NFL teams. There are infinite reasons why I think it’s the greatest sport, and accordingly, America’s greatest pastime. But perhaps most profoundly, it is the institutional or cultural aspect that makes me such a fan; the fact that I’ll be looking forward to each coming season until I die, presumably as the result of overeating. If a witching hour shopping spree or a silly commercial makes you happy, I’d never try to take it away from you. I don’t hate the natural existence of commerciality, I hate the bastardized sideshow it’s become. The “kickoff” to Black Friday sales start earlier every year, to the point where you’ll eventually have to get to the mall before the turkey’s out of the oven. This is all fine and good for the stores and for the consumer, if they really want to participate in that nonsense. But for the retail workers, this is unabashed exploitation and should be considered disgraceful and un-American. Speaking of bad taste, the Super Bowl ads in the last few years have been a severely unfunny embarrassment. There’s nothing clever or creative, just hokey fads and gimmicks used to pander to an audience that the advertisers must find completely stupid. Well the feeling’s mutual, assholes.

Now that I’ve aired my grievances, I’ll end with a review of Super Bowl XLVI, which ended just before I began writing this piece. It’s obvious that the NFL and the Super Bowl are getting even more popular, which is substantiated by the top-notch competition and on-field product. It makes no difference to me if the game is on the world’s biggest stage or on cable access. Two great teams with great history tangled up in a tight slugfest. Very entertaining, but I was rooting for New England, so that didn’t work out so well. However, it delights me to see Eli Manning be confirmed as one of the greats. That’s exactly what New Yorkers needed, something to be cocky about. Finally, it was nice to see a halftime show that wasn’t bullshit. Madonna is absolutely timeless in terms of music, attitude, and sexiness; she’s the titular (get it?) inspiration for this article. I know you can’t compare Kelly Clarkston to Madonna, but seriously, how many years did it take for Clarkston to turn bloat up like a blimp? I’m not trying to be mean, but she’s a real chunky cookie. Actually she doesn’t look that bad, and really, I’m not wild about Madonna’s muscly physique. The thing is, Madonna would pull either body type off. I’m just into the blonde hair and that devilish gap-tooth smile. If you’re uncomfortable with the perverted turn this article has taken, I apologize, and I will end it right here before it gets worse.