Brutes Watching Brutes

Glance at a paper, pass within earshot of a radio, or flick past CNN and you'll probably be convinced. The world, it seems, is coming to a bloody, chaotic end. Conflicts rage in faraway countries whose names we can't pronounce, polar bears are quickly becoming drenched in melted-glaciers, and the price of gas is steadily gaining on platinum. But, despite what the fear-mongers at the New York Times would have you believe, it's not all gloom-and-doom out there. Amidst the ruin, true fun can still be had. Case in point: Super Bowl XLII

There's something warmly reassuring in the notion of colossal, sweaty millionaires thrusting their padded bodies at one another with the hopes of advancing a a small ball past a certain marked line. Watching the mammoth football players, swelling with testosterone and foaming at the mouth, play a simple game with every ounce of dedication in their body helps us forget about the sub-prime mortgage crises or the explosions in Pakistan. It's Super Bowl XLII, and that's all that matters. The Dow could have dropped 40 points, but Randy Moss won't drop a lob pass. Tom Brady might not extract our troops from the quagmire in Iraq, but he can inspire a fourth-quarter rally like a battle-hardened general.

Call it American consumerism at its worst, but I want to sit in front of a high-def t.v., eat a barge load of crispy chips smothered in a vulgar amount of cheese, and sip on a deep, dark beer, the size of lake Huron.

And through the game, during the breaks, I want to watch the carefully constructed commercials. I want to know what a company, with a 30-second blank spot and a $2.7 million dollar debt, can come up with. Because they won't jolt me back into reality, they won't pull my attention back to real-w0rld issues with dire implications. Fast cars, beer-bottles that change colors in the cold, and loose women in tight clothes who will rub a man's shoulders if he scrubs with AXE shower gel.

Ah yes, life is good my friends. Watch the Super Bowl, pop some levitra and smile like the man in the commercial, because there's no telling what tomorrow might bring. (I'm forecasting showers)