Super Bowl drool

I just returned from a Lynn Street Super Bowl party that provided me pleasure insofar as the Pinot Noir had the desired numbing effect and the Patriots lost. It's enjoyable to see a non-Chicago team choke for a change when it comes down to the wire. Haha.

Oh yes: the company was pleasant and almost altogether agreeable, except for a moment when I expressed doubt that anyone could ride a mountain bike for miles through 8 or 9 inches of snow. After being brutally scolded for my skepticism, I backed down for the sake of The Children. For me, the highlight of the night was that a visitor from Spain --- a young lady who knows even less than I do about football --- won the in-house betting pool for three of the four quarters. Twenty-four bucks and six bits, I believe. Now she knows what America is all about.

One wonders why there is such breathless anticipation stored up for the TV commercials rolled out especially for the Super Bowl. Do we really forget how lame they are, year after year? The 2008 crop featured (1) at least three ads for energy drinks, or amped-up pop in one case, all featuring (wait for it) people and/or CG characters energetically boogeying beyond all expectations, (2) an Anheuser-Busch commercial making fun of Indians (the ones from south Asia --- ahh-oooooo-gah!), and (3) an alternately sentimental and humorous spot about the little Clydesdale that couldn't... until he was (this is just so out-of-the-box you won't believe it) trained to pull a freight train... by a Dalmatian dog!!! Oh yes, and there was another crop of those darn mischievous squirrels that cause auto accidents, or near misses, or something. One year they're working for an insurance company; the next for a purveyor of radial tires. I never know who, or care, because every year the game is all about people getting together to eat, drink, and watch a game they don't care about. No one watches the show in order to find out how to set up an e-Trade account so he can set up a new account at the dawn of a worldwide economic collapse. (I wonder how Busch would like it if a billion Indians from India decide to boycott their products for all time.)

Undoubtedly there were many more commercials exhibited during the game, but all of them (N x $3 million) were totally wasted on the highly desirable demographic in attendance at the swanky Lynn Street venue. I've been to Super Bowl parties for the past 10 years (when all of a sudden, without explanation, I suddenly became popular enough to be invited). In that time, I really don't remember a single party where the room was ever quiet enough to hear the text of a commercial. Tonight, everyone (except me, apparently) was looking forward to a commercial that promised to present a joke which only deaf people "get," or something like that, but evidently it ran around halftime when everybody was in The Cat In The Hat's kitchen putting cheese and gravy and mushrooms all over baked potatoes. Once, during the 4th quarter, the room did become eerily quiet when Victoria's Secret ran an ad, but silence was not necessary to get the gist of the message. Furthermore, the model --- by reason of her appearance --- gave strong indications of being a skank, so I for one did not feel that tempted to run home and start leafing through all the VS catalogs I keep in the bathroom.

So, in summary, this year's Lynn/Healey Super Bowl party was a huge success. And I think that tonight we were all winners. Except all those miserable bastards in the Patriots' locker room after the game, and their betrayed fans. Haha! Oh, darn, the alcohol is wearing off now. Ouch....