Super Bowl

The sheer spectacle of the Super Bowl trivializes everything. The high cost of the seats assures that only the upper echelons can attend, to be seen in the company of themselves. The rest of us must watch from home; which, by the way, offers a much better perspective of the game.

As plebes, watching from home we are condemned also to watching the commercials. These are said to have evolved into high art. In fact, legions of non-fans of the sport watch simply to see the advertising which essentially amounts to a parade of tools marching through our version of Tahrir Square - like a succession of splendid rags paraded down glittering runways on the angular bodies of emaciated females - and, as we all know, tools can never exceed their function.

The controversy engendered by the Groupon ads went right over my head. I might have been reaching for the hummus at the time and not paying attention. I did marvel at GM’s contribution, knowing how cash strapped they are.

H&R Block decided to skip advertising this year, having failed to realize an up-tick in business last year. And so it is with them all - the products and services vying for attention on the national vaudeville stage.

So, advertising at the Super Bowl appears similar to those who spend huge sums simply to be there, to be seen in the company of naked emperors; to maintain their jewels in the crown - their white elephants - like the Taj Pierre (Hotel) on New York’s 5th Avenue, painstakingly maintained by the TATA’s at a loss. I was not shocked to see W, but surprised by the absence of Barack Hussein Obama, our latest symbol of excess - in the jubilant stands.

Was happy to watch from home with my family, rooting for no one in particular (until the end) and stuffing my face.

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