I love me some football.
I watched the majority of the bowl games even though I think the bowl system is a sham by greedy corporations. Of course judging by the empty stadium at the GMAC bowl and the downfall of Detroit I suspect we might be a few bowls shorter by the end of this year. Raise your hand if you had Robocop as the first Sci-Fi movie to come true.
My Seahawks were a mess this year but I still managed to catch at least one game on Sunday and I’ve watched most of the playoff games to date. Raise your hand if you thought home field advantage meant something.
During my viewership I've noticed a disturbing trend. Something wicked this way comes my friends. A dark cloud descends upon my grid iron gladiators. I’m not talking about Football in the great Northwest. I’m talking about commercials.
Not the sweet catchy tune of “Feeling kinda Sunday” that my son likes to hum as he colors or the short dude that wrecks the DJ table as he shows off his dance moves that makes me laugh every time.
I’m talking about the dick pills.
For some insane reason the marketing geniuses have figured out that the only males that watch football these days have one or both of the following problems.
I can’t pee regularly and when I do I can only squeeze out a few drops.
OR
I can’t achieve an erection at just the right moment.
Every commercial break, without fail, in this years College and NFL games had a commercial advertising a pill that cured one of these disorders. Hell, sometimes they bookended the commercial break with both them in an bid to solve both my problems in just two minutes and two seconds. AWESOME.
First we have a group of gray haired men doing all sorts of neat shit. Golfing, taking a plane ride, taking a boat ride, cruising along in a convertible. The narrator is lamenting the fact that one or more of the gentlemen could not make the group pictures because he was trying to go pee. As his buddies are having the time of their empty bladder lives the “dude with a problem” is walking out of the bathroom regretting the six-pack he just chugged.
But help is on the way my good man. If by chance your problem is caused by an enlarged prostate there is a pill that can help. The even better news is the side effects are so fucking severe that you will be in the bathroom vomiting or shitting out of your ear so peeing regularly will be an afterthought.
Lets move on to my personal favorite. E.D. Yes, it’s so hush, hush that is has a two letter designation. Erectile Dysfunction. These little blue pieces of heaven come in three flavors. 12 hour, 24 hour and the mind blowing 36 hour jackhammer. They do this so that you can absolutely be certain that whatever window of opportunity comes your way to nail the lady friend, your ready to rock.
My question is, can you turn it off? Lets say I know the kid will be out of the house in the next 24 hours. I pop a pill and spend the rest of the day hunched over at my desk because I don’t want to be walking around the house knocking shit off the shelves with my chemically induced ram rod. He leaves, the wife and I get frisky for about… 3-20 minutes depending on what’s on the TV. Now what? I’ve got 1-23 hours left of Barry Bonds in my pants. Do we lance it to let the blood out?
The side effects seem pretty reasonable. Don’t use it in case of a weak heart because you can’t afford too divert any blood flow. If the erection lasts longer than 36 hours take pictures and head to the Bunny Ranch in Nevada.
Now I know that showing these commercials during The View or Regis isn’t hitting the target demographic but come on folks. Once a game is fine. Showing them every commercial break is ridiculous.
Anyway that’s my rant. I will post on my writing which is coming together soon.
Have a great new year.
Also if you suffer from any of the above issues I apologize and suggest you catch a game or two.
-Jim
