Submission, Emasculation, Pathos: Being a Man in a Superbowl Ad

Last night, the USofA watched the Saints march in right over the Colts. It was a great game. Well played, some bold surprises and some genuinely tender moments. Had I been alone, I might have wept openly at Drew Brees (NFL MVP) clutching his son just after the big win. Brees is a charismatic and gentle presence on screen, and I was caught off guard at how genuine the moment was. He knew he was on camera, but it never felt inauthentic. Just a guy holding onto his baby boy at the proudest moment in his life. Jesus, Breesus. It was like getting shot with a Super Soaker loaded with Mom's Apple Pie and Unjaded Democracy.

The subplot to the Superbowl proceedings is, of course, the Commercials. Every year at this time, marketers sink millions of dollars into launching an ad campaign that will etch their brands into the American psyche for all time - at least until someone adds Bacon or Chipotle to the recipe.

For the most part, the spots were funny and well produced. We had our share of some real boner moves, thanks to Taco Bell (Rap is Dead.) and Go Daddy (Hey! Remember we were cool once! Right? Retread! Retread!) and a shocking overuse of the "Dramatic Hamster Meme". Honestly, fellas...where have you been? That thing came out in 2007 - which is like three decades ago in internet years.

And then there are ads like this one:



LAZY. LAZY. LAZY.

This falls into the category of "Beer is Better than a Woman". Granted, there is no beer in this ad, but the category reflects a broader attitude in advertising that makes me queasy: "A woman steals your manhood, and all that is left is a puddle of barely recognizable human jelly. How can you unblock the cock? BUY THIS THING."

What's worse is that it relies on the concept that all chicks can think about is shopping, candles and underwear and what we want is an emasculated BFF to tote our shit around while we giggle up the escalator like a third grade pageant doll.

If you need a portable TV to grow your dick back and preserve your sanity, you might want to rethink this relationship altogether.

AND..."Change out of that skirt, Jason." Here's another chapper - you can call a man anything, ANYTHING AT ALL, but a Woman. Suggest that he wears a skirt or behaves like a female and you have successfully infected the poor turd with social leprosy.

Then we come to this:



Watch out womens. In post-apocalyptica, you are not worth a set of tires, and are swiftly traded to some Mad Max bandits who - guess what! - don't want you anyway (thanks to a misunderstanding provided by the old Catskills joke). Not even in your skin tight pleather body stocking.

Once discarded, what will become of her? Idaknow. Least she's not weighing down the tires anymore.

and finally, there's this one:



1. I actually kinda like this ad. The writing is smart and funny. It takes the old tropes about work and relationships, and re-imagines them into a tyranny of paltry indignities. The images of a the men are arresting.

However...

2. Does it really suck that much for guys, being married or in a relationship? Is it really so awful it causes you to go wall-eye and retreat into a fantasia of Cars, Beer and Pizza? Do you sacrifice your very will, soul and personality for this?

Apparently.

That sucks, yo.

I hate to tell you, though, no amount of automotivesexboxbudlight therapy is going to fill that ugly void you have inside you.


There appears to be a lot of tension with marketers about where to position ads aimed at men these days. With the definition of masculinity in a more liquid state, we get railroaded with images of pathetic, dopey guys, paralyzed by uncertainty and an unwillingness to evolve. This short changes everybody.

I don't want to be portrayed as a woman who only wants shoes/yogurt/cleaning supplies and finds her mate an impediment to her very femininity.

There is drudgery, frustration, sacrifice and compromise in the workplace and at home (for both genders). There ain't nothing wrong with tapping that font of comedic oil. But I don't think it's worth perpetuating the idea that relationships are starter graveyards to push a few units of beer.