The kind of football I like is the kind that everyone who isn't American has in mind when they use that word. You know, soccer, where the players actually use their feet to kick the ball. Make sense? I'm not crazy about American football. I went to the first game during my freshman year of college and never bothered to go again, because the action stopped about every five seconds. Woohoo! Not. But I can agree to disagree. If you like American football, good for you. Anyway, I wouldn't have bothered watching the Super Bowl except that my neighbors invited me and it was a good opportunity for food and and male bonding, two things I could use more of in my life. The price I paid was that the puppymonkeybaby will now haunt my dreams forever. Would you just sit there and let that thing dance on your coffee table and give you drinks and lick your face? I wouldn't. I'd be like, "Hey, you little abomination against God, get out of my house."
So, I just thought this Doritos commercial was whatever...
2. Sexist though it may be, I actually was clueless. I didn't, and still don't, understand what's wrong with eating Doritos or any other snack item during an ultrasound.
3. The doctor in this commercial clearly said "any day now", which even I, an Aspie with limited understanding of metaphors and slang and hints and implications, clearly understood to mean that the baby, I mean fetus, was going to be born very soon. Yet the toolbags at NARAL have a problem with "humanizing" it nonetheless. According to their logic, I suppose the baby, I mean fetus, is not human and has no rights as long as it remains inside its mother, but the birth canal is lined with fairy dust that magically turns it into a human as it emerges. Strange how a mindless obsession with "choice" can lower your IQ by 70 points.
Then this bit...
Their astonishingly lame attempt at backpedaling:
Of course this commercial was my favorite owing to the sci-fi elements.
Also, like most holidays, it provides an opportunity for me to buy myself candy without guilt. Spending money usually feels like tearing away little pieces of my soul, but this time I can justify it by pointing out that I'm only spending a fraction of what I would be spending anyway if somebody loved me. And that's not even taking into account the post-holiday sale on the seasonal stuff. I love those little powdery candy hearts with the banal little messages. They need to come in a jumbo size with messages like "I want to have thoughtful, intelligent conversations with you." In homage to Valentine's Day I am going to repost this clip from "The Red Green Show" that I posted months ago, because I had fewer readers then and those who have already seen it may have forgotten it sufficiently by now to find it funny again. As always, I hope that by watching it here you will come to subconsciously associate it with me and find me funny by extension.
I'm not even going to be cynical, but I will be lazy and recycle something I've already posted again. In homage to Valentine's Day, here is a song whose title translates as "Salute to Love", already featured on my racist page about Indians because I danced to it in the finale of USU's Diwali Festival in 2011. I've listened to it too many times and now I don't get the same thrill I felt the first time I heard it, but it still seems like the best choice with its generic yet all-encompassing theme. Ignore the risqué bit.