Dear Superbowl Commercials

This might as well just be an obituary for the golden age of Superbowl commercials as much as it is a condemnation of the current classless class of dreck that was trotted out last Sunday.  Superbowl Sunday used to be a night of championship level football interspersed with the best that advertising agencies had to give us.  Now, the commercials seem indistinguishable from one that you would catch premiering during a rerun of Shark Tank.

There were only two commercials all night that I heard any positive reviews about.  The first was the Budweiser Clydesdales with the puppy.  Yeah, sure.  No one is going to hate a commercial with a cute little puppy, so that was a gimme.  More surprising was the second, the Brady Bunch commerical with Steve Buscemi and Danny Trejo, mainly because it was a rehash of an idea they stopped doing two or three years ago.  So, those were the best ideas that the supposed best minds in advertising could come up with, and that companies felt were worth shelling out millions of dollars for a prime slot.  Yet, the two most non football related topics discussed from the broadcast were the weird and uncomfortable Dead Kid commercial, and that freaking shark at halftime.  Let me tell you, I definitely want to hire a life insurance company that feels like bumming out millions of people that are busy shoveling guacamole down their gullets at a friend's house.  Maybe for my birthday, the company will come out and psychologically torture my housepets while I'm forced to watch.

There are still good commercials out there.  I still laugh every time I see the Value City coffee table commercial, and Blake Bennett playing straight man to the children in the cell commercials got some great mileage.  Somehow, though, on the biggest night for commercials all year, we get nothing of substance. 

There may never be another Terry Tate, Office Linebacker ever again, and I weep for the future.