Go Seagulls! Dan’s Super Bowl Slog—Part Two!
Well, the intermission was nice. The Stones rocked—so skinny, so flat (Mick’s stomach and his singing). And the commercials were nice. But I couldn’t understand a damn thing the four guys who walked us through the first half the game said.
I’m getting more messages about the Diet Pepsi commercials, and their new website—brownandbubbly.com. Folks seem to think it invokes, in a subtle way, my own santorum. Well, not my own santorum… my santorum campaign.
Hm. An “I’m going to Disney World!” commercial—but only Stealers are features. Clearly Disney put its chips on the Stealers—they didn’t think that the Seagulls had a chance. So: Boycott Disney! It didn’t work when the fundies tried it, but angry Seagulls fans can make a boycott stick!
A reader writes…
dan! CHIMPANZEES, not monkeys. god, i can take any kind of bad spelling, but not that. you’re killing me.
Sorry about that, Annee! I’m Slogging just as fast as I can, and there isn’t time for spellcheck. Monkies, monkeys, chimps—whatever.
5:30: We kick, and it’s on! Why are the Stealers all so hairy? We have a better Logo—there logo looks like a Subaru logo. Ours looks like a mighty bird sweeping down.
Um, the ugly-logo-havin’ Stealers just ran a ball 75 yards into our swimsuit area. So they’re kind of winning. One of my guests just announced that she’s originally from PA, so she’s actually a Stealers’ fan. She’s switched allegiance! Mid-game! Can you believe the nerve? It is the “longest play in the history of the Super Bowl.” Ouch.
Oh, another Lost promo.
My brother Bill, who gave novice Seattle football fans advice on the Slog all week long, was going to call me later with advice for novice rioters—how to behave at an post-Super-Bowl-victory riot. Only break the windows at big chains, for instance, not mom-and-pop stores. Don’t attempt to loot taverns—bar owners know enough to carry guns on big game days, etc. Looks like we may not need the advice.
5:40: Everyone cheered because… we almost caught a ball. It wasn’t an intercession, which really would have sucked, but it’s starting to look bleak for our suddenly beloved ‘Gulls.
Oh, it’s a third-down-and-five-at-the-thirty-two.
What? Does? That? Mean?
Another long throw to one of our ball catchers, but, alas, no caught ball.
Oh, another missed field goal! Oh, things look bleak! Everyone in my living room is convinced we’re going to lose—there are no 12th men here. Just a bunch of people who, by their own admission, have never watched a football game before. Fags, lefties, political junkies.
Wait, I missed a bestiality commercial—some old man and his dog. Ew. Is Pam Roach watching, I wonder? And an “old Fabio” commercial. I was looking down, typing.
5:48: The game, the game, the game… goes on. I’m getting a little tipsy on my drink of choice, delicious Lillet Rouge. I can’t keep up with the plays, the commercials, or the yammering of John Madden anymore. It looks like the Stealers are moving the ball down toward our swimsuit area, because all the folks in the stands are waving their yellow come rags around. This was our mistake: Seagull fans need come rags of their own to wave around. Or maybe tit clamps—maybe Seagull fans should bring tit clamps to the game, and wave them around over their heads.
Oh, my God—we caught a ball that was meant for them! We are running the ball! We may… no, no touchdown! But we did something of some signifigance! Go gulls!
Touchdown! We did it! Everybody wave your tit clamps around over your head!
Yippie! There’s hope!
Commercial Break: The Hummer commercial requires comment: Godzilla and a giant robot destroy a city. Then they mate somehow and Godzilla gives birth to a Hummer. Is this an ad, something that’s supposed to make us want a Hummer, or an admission of guilt? Hummer’s destroy cities? Creepy.
5:59: Okay, we’re down by four. And there’s six minutes left in this act of the game. And those were apparently chimps, not monkeys. Thanks, Annie. What would we do without you?
That slap your hands together and go “Yeah!” I make that face when I turn my column in on Wednesday afternoons. “Yeah! Totally kick-ass sex advice! Yeah!” Then I spike my laptop.
Commercial Break: A truck commercial that references the video footage from the Asian Tsunami? A car parked near the shore, herky-jerky, low-quality video of the tide coming in, tossing the car around in the surf. Now the Muslims should riot—that’s offensive shit right there. A quarter of a million people died in that freakin’ tsunami, Toyota! For shame!
6:10: Our guy is throwing the ball around, but no is catching it. So we punt, and now they’ve got the ball. Gee, I hope we intercede.
Hey, did you know Grey’s Anatomy is coming up after the Super Bowl? In case you missed the four hundred thousand ads, the announcer just let us know about the ER-esque episode—code black! code black!—that’s on later. It’s somehow in the mold of Desperate Housewives and Lost… somehow. Or other.
6:12: A reader writes…
We do have [our own] come rags. They are white and say 12th Man on them. Much more useful.
Bootleg, bootleg, bootleg—what the hell does that mean?
He he. Madden said “tight end.” That never gets old.
Oh, we’ve made two big catches in the last few minutes—but the third quarter is over. Fifteen minutes left, fourteen to ten, and our beloved Gulls are still in the game. Wave your tit clamps high, Twelth Men!
Loved the Benny Hill reference in the Sprint commercial!
6:12: We seem to be moving the ball. Gosh, I hope we score. Our guy just throw a ball to another one of our guys, and now we’re very close to their swimsuit area. No, wait. The refs called a foul, and we’re back to the place we were at before. Why are the refs cheating?
Number 98, one of the Stealers, hardly looks like an athlete…
So… we may not score. We may have to kick the ball for one of those three point deals.
No, wait! Interruption! The Stealers steal the ball! Hence, the “Stealers.”
Wait, the ref in tight pants is saying something. Not sure what happened. A call in our favor, for once? We’ll find out after the commercials.
Bootleg explained—courtesy of a reader.
6:27: We’re having a bad case of “only child syndrome” here at the house. There are not one but two only children—wait, another Stealers’ touchdown. Hm. Things don’t look good for our Gulls.
Okay, back to the only child thing: There’s a room full of adults and—horrors!—none of us are paying attention to them. We’re watching TV, talking about the game, and one of is Slogging. So they’re picking on each other, getting in the way, attracting attention to themselves, knocking shit over, fighting. They can’t take it—this not being the center of attention stuff.
A touchy fan of the other team writes…
fine, you go ahead and call them stealers, and when seattle loses because of all the time they steal the ball, it’s on your head. you called it. brilliant.
Hm. The Stealers stole the ball. “First down, Pittsburgh.” Buttterfingers…
6:36: Wait—did a ref make a call that benefited the Gulls? Holy shit!
Meanwhile, here’s a news headline that’s a pleasure to read: “Bush is thinking ahead, already, to retirement.” We’re all looking forward to it, Mr. President.
A nickname that could stick after today: Hasslesack.
6:45: Okay, not much time left, the Gulls will need two touchdowns to win. This seems, well, unlikely. So there won’t be riots tonight in Seattle.
A reader asks…
Are we seeing a new feature starting on the Stranger? Savage Sports? Dan needs to do this for the upcoming Olympics. I’d enjoy reading his comments on a Nascar race!
I’ve never been able to screw up much interest in the Winter Olympics. The Summer Olmpics—sure. Divers, wrestlers, gymnasts—love ‘em, can’t get enough of ‘em. Athletes in the Winter Olympics, by contrast, wear lots more clothes. No reason to watch, as far as I’m concerned. Maybe if the speed skaters did it in thongs, or if the snowboarders wore chaps—maybe then. And Nascar? If I can’t be bothered with real athletes in winter clothes, I certainly can’t be bothered with fake athletes wearing whole cars.
6:50: It’s over, right?
Wait, what? There’s another game after this game? Huh? What’s the pro-bowl about?
7:00: “Your guys are fucked,” my brother Bill says. “You can win if Moses parts the red sea and gives you a miracle.” Why are we losing? “You’re losing because of bad time management and bad coaching. And I was right about half the score—I said Pittsburgh would get 21. Be glad that you didn’t win. Now you don’t have to go riot and loot. You can just go to bed.”