RSS Feed
Blogger Profile
Contact kaf at
kafkascampi at gmail dot com
listens:
reads:
Cormac McCarthy - The Road
views:
Sunshine
Tony Takitani
Jigoku
archivey goodness:
Technorati
Profile
not my things:
not my sites:
blogflicker
defective yeti
waxy
izzlepfaff
torrez
telescreen
evil twin theory
dong resin
sankey
pretentious hack
cardhouse
cheesedip
eeksypeeksy
ego-ideal
tremble
sparkwood & 21
|
Superish
So I watched the Super Bowl, after my 18-month old had gone to bed, so she wouldn't bother me with her constant yammering about how Troy Polamalu is overrated or with her tedious diatribes about the 3-4 defense. And sure, it was a good game--but when 2 teams you don't care about are playing in the Super Bowl, it's all about the commercials.
Apparently there was something about a guy eating Doritos off other men's pants that didn't go over very well with basically all of humanity, and some highbrow satire from Groupon that didn't bother anyone even a little bit. Way to overestimate America's sense of humor, Groupon.
My favorite was the new starkly realistic talking baby E-Trade ad, where he suddenly loses his ability to trade stocks, to talk, even to think in a complex way. Stock price graphs become nothing but lines to him, their pretty colors an unanswerable riddle. In the end, he poops on himself. The last shot as the camera pulls away shows an enigmatic grin, suggesting that, perhaps, the only real success is in failure.
Or the other one, where he is indicted for securities fraud, gets tried as an adult, and spends a year in Leavenworth. That one was good too.
Of course, that's not true. I hate the talking baby. I hate him powerfully and beautifully, as I have mentioned before in other times, referring to other babies.
posted by
kafkaesque @
11:26 AM
|
Wednesday, February 09, 2011 |
|
|
