In a shocking turn of events, I shall now reveal that I
DESPISE THE SUPER BOWL. (Yes, I fully realize I have begun every Super
Bowl column for the last 10 years with this statement. WHAT’S YOUR
FREAKING POINT?) Seriously, is this over-bloated,
commercialized, homoerotic/-phobic exercise in bashing out human
brains really the ultimate American event? Is this really the best we
can do after seeing China’s spectacular Olympic Games opening
ceremonies or Barack Obama’s inauguration? These are the kind of
events that should bring us together—events that say, “Hey, we’re
AMERICAN (or Chinese, in the Chinese’s case), and this is what we STAND
FOR.”
“You, Wm. Steven Hump-Me, are a homo,” I hear many of you cry. “The
Super Bowl is an epic example of masculine pageantry, throwing a
celebratory light on the last vestiges of machismo and virility that have been slowly sucked from the emasculated male corpse.” WOW. I
couldn’t agree with you more. Plus it SUCKS. You forgot to mention that
part.
Anyway, since I’m the stupid TV columnist, I have to mention that
the stupid Super Bowl is on this stupid Sunday, stupid February 1, on
stupid NBC, at stupidly stupid 6:00 stupid pm. HOWEVER! I am so
uninterested in the Super Bowl, I’ve decided not to mention, or even do
the necessary research to find out, who’s playing—in
protest! (Take that, Super Bowl organizers! Would you like
some salve to go with your buuuuuuuuuurn?)
On the other hand, there is one reason to watch the Super
Bowl—and that’s for the ridiculously overblown controversy that’s
bound to happen. For example, remember that Super Bowl when Janet
Jackson’s titty fell out? Or that one Super Bowl when they showed a
Snickers commercial featuring two supposedly hetero guys giving each
other a tonsil massage with their tongues? Or when Prince masturbated
his guitar behind that big white sheet? (Ew.) Anyway… people went
ape-poop!
So am I right in saying—and you already know that I
am—that the only real purpose of a Super
Bowl is to be a vehicle for whatever controversy happens to occur?
Yes, I am right, and here’s my proof. Answer me this: The year Janet
Jackson’s titty fell out, who played in the Super Bowl and what was the
score? Uh-huh. I REST MY CASE.
Therefore, the Super Bowl committee—who I imagine as
slope-foreheaded Neanderthals with long flowing locks of hair growing
from their knuckles—should stop worrying about the success or
failure of the actual game. They should focus all of their attention on
making this year’s controversy the most controversial ever! Ideas? Of
COURSE I have ideas!
During the first half of the game, they should have some
guy dressed up like Osama bin Laden run out onto the field, steal
the ball, and then run away from the players as the Benny Hill theme
song plays in the background. While Bruce Springsteen is playing the
half-time show, his titty should fall out. Followed by his penis. And
finally, in the game’s final moments, the quarterbacks from each team
should meet on the 50-yard line, pull their pants down, and rub their
Snickers together.
Now, that’s good controversy.
Let’s rub our Snickers together.
steve@portlandmercury.com
