The New England Patriots crashed the New York Jets 38-14 this afternoon at the Meadowlands. As you can imagine, my head almost exploded in jubilation at seeing preppy Chad Pennington vanquished on the field with an injured ankle. Poor, poor Chadwick.
It was the season opener for the Patriots as well as my television, which has sat dormant for the past 6 months except for some tennis matches and the occasional episode of Absolutely Fabulous (“My name is Patsy Stone, and I’m wearing thick pants.”)
Oh, Television, I profess to loath you and want you smashed, but you’re not that bad. It’s those beastly tagalongs, those commercials that I find morally noisome. Those blaring nuggets of pop culture that appeal to our most primitive instincts: Sex, status, high-caloric energy intake, inebriation, and hilarity over things like Oreo dessert pizza mustaches.
Yes, Oreo dessert pizza mustaches, the “hook” of a Dominos Pizza commercial that initially caught my attention because one of the characters is named Meredith. Which is grosser: The commercial, which features two characters (not Meredith) with mustaches of Oreo cookies… or the product itself, which is essentially chopped Oreos sealed onto a pizza crust by high fructose corn syrup? I’m glad someone found a way to restore Oreos to their demonic nutritional values since Nabisco scrubbed them of trans fats. And coming after a meal of sausage and pepperoni-packed pizza that you are encouraged to dip into sauce! I can actually hear America’s blood sugar spiking underneath all the uproarious laughter over the Oreo dessert pizza mustache.
See what I mean? Commercials are so distracting. Back to the football: Tom Brady is still my foxy Lord of the Pigskin. Randy Moss is a preternatural talent. Ellis Hobbs set a NFL record with a 108-yard kickoff return for a touchdown. And Coach Belichick got a new sweatshirt. The Patriots are so in the Super Bowl this year.
