Blue MondayA Poem by riskrapperSuper Bowl Sunday deconstructed the day afterits a blue Monday after Super Sunday Americas 45th funday yesterdays spectacle the dip is done the broken bones of buffalo wings fill giant glad bags the ridged ripples of broken Doritos scattered on the floor wait for a vacuums hum dead soldiers rattle a melodious cascade the aroma of flat Bud plunge into recycle bins ribbed Trojans dripping bagged jism rim plastic trash cans confirm an orgy's frenzy the game forgotten commercial reveries remain seared into the briney mush of compliant olfactories collective hallucinations successfully branded a new and improved global consciousness Madmen Shamans ebulliently channel transactional zeitgeists from the ripped boxes of Best Buy plasma screens Monday morning water cool scuttlebutt the planet is buzzing about... Google's cool slap of iPhone clad automatons the vanquishers of IBM's evil empire Apple's brave new world is next ("meet the new boss, same as the old boss?") we all dug rolling with Eminem through the glitzy streets of Motown How cool is 8 Mile? The hoods lookin good angelic chorus lifts spirits Swing Low Sweet Chrysler The artistic types faun over the graphic beauty illustrious aestheticism moving story line the epic journey of the worlds greatest brand heroic product marketing pros rival Jason and the Argonauts sojourning trans-formative odysseys of clever packaging and fat tail shelf life holding precious real estate of living imaginations infecting hearts and minds of future generations realizing everything ends better with coke The State Farm Pre-Game Jimmy Johnson's new coiff jawed away with his old boss rattlesnake booted Jerry Jones A poignant embrace captured in living color on grand jumbo trons lording over a cavernous palace a new stadium for Homeboys Jimmy J asks Jerry J "Why you overpaid for The Boys New Crib?" "A billion 4, a palace for the masses". Jerry breaks some news with an impish wink. "No expense is spared for the peeps." "I always make out, get a good return. I make a profit. Ain't America great." This year Super Bowl went Hollywood and installed a long red carpet. Mike Strahan, collared Harrison Ford. Bagging his greatest sack on a dazzling red rug. "How many Super Bowls is this for you?" Strahan whistles through his gaped teeth. The aging Indiana Jones came to promote his new flick, "Cowboys and Aliens" (I'm told an early Cannes favorite. And it should be. Spoiler alert, the movie is a moving story of an American tragedy. Romo blows another one throwing an interception in overtime. The Aliens return it 95 yards for a touchdown. Boy's lose again. America's Team vanquished by bubble headed Martians. All of Texas weeps.) Indy coolly quips an answer whipping with sarcasm, "after today, one." yuck yuck lol Strahan continues to stalk Ford like a scrambling quarterback, "where will you be sitting?" Ford shrugs "dunno, somewhere up-there, I guess", he points to the lofty luxury boxes. Royalty sits next to God in Jerry Jones house of the people. Ford dons a green scarf. He's down with the Pack. Another sunshine fanny in the seat. Michael Douglas and Zeta Jones arrive in time to hear Keith Urban sing "Who Wouldn't Want to be Me?" "He's alive He's free Who wouldn't want to be me?" Indeed who? The parade of heroes continue. The walking,talking little S Corp, LLC's dance their way into the stadium on resplendent cushions of red. Terrific brands all earnestly questing to urgently deliver messages to promote themselves and plug shameful products. A Black Eye Peas teaser blinks onto my giant flat screen. Will I Am a black man in a blacker mask marches down the street zapping people with a ray gun. (fascist culture is so cool, a little light on liberation, but damn does he look bad as all get out in that leather rumble don't f**k with me outfit) Jamie Foxx on the royal carpet leaks that he yodeled three tunes at a pregame party for Jerry's Kids; T Boone and the Big W among them. Quick cut to Jamie's new movie Rio. (I wonder if its about Mexicano's crossing the river?) Wealth Power the perfect image of ourselves take a pill I am Limitless a new movie? I've seen this one before. I think I'm watching it now. Just Go With It Adam Sandler, Jennifer Aniston Americas sweetheart teamed with Americas kosher jokester. He looks hot in his droopy pretend don't give a s**t orange sweatshirt and acid washed jeans. Jennifer's tits, legs what can you say about America's sweetheart? I think Brad Pitt made a big mistake. Bill O is next. Posturing, arm wrestles with the Prez, shadow boxes with the Big O. "Muslim Brotherhoods Rendition Mubarack goes off the reservation knows where the bodies are buried" OMG! OMG! (Do we really need a dose of Fox Fear? Is there no escape from the pernicious harangue? Don't they know its Super Bowl Sunday?) Bill O's drive by continues, "Obamacare, why do Americans hate you?" Great journalism by this Fox thug. Bill O is haughty, arrogant, disrespectful a despicable bully and a self serving blow hard. (My bladder is busting. Its a great time to take a piss.) We escape to the freshness of Owen Wilson's smiling face, playing two hand touch. His bent nose shining he trots about Jerry's field carefree as a child. (Is this a pitch, pass and punt contest for A Listers?) Other stars join the light fun; goose cheerleaders give the cabana boys hand-jobs and themselves a well earned blow-job. Its an orgy of photo ops product placement a sizzling collection of dancing brands prancing on the gridiron of the New Cowboy field. Ashton Kutcher peeks over the shoulder of a tweeting W. I'm impressed W knew how to use his thumbs. Mrs. W's permanent smile was clearly visible from the stadiums cheapest seats. Condie sat way to the right quietly stewing lamenting lost opportunities of a gig as NFL Commissioner. On the stadiums floor the frenetic dancing of the bumping brands fast approaches ecstatic elation. Hollywood's version of Whirling Dervishes; is immediately stilled as the solemn portion of the program commences. The Declaration of Independence is read by a bright galaxy of stars accompanying armed service personnel and other diligent American's. "We hold these truths to be self evident" "United colonies levee war, dissolve bounds, our day of allegiance lives, fortunes and sacred honor freedom is common sense, free, equal, united" CEO's imprisoned in Jerry's luxury boxes overcome with emotion pound fists on the glass smearing cocktail sauce on the windows of the suites. Illegal Chicano's bravely step forward with rolls of Bravo and Windex to wipe it clean. The focal point of festivities seismically shifts like a tectonic plate almost as large as Jerry's Stadium. The stampede of cheers thunder like canon shots, the patriotic ramparts of militant free market capitalism supplants the shallow frivolity of consumer slavery. We are compelled to kneel to celebrate a Eucharist of nationalism. My partner explodes, "Can't watch a football game and view it for what it is, a f*****g football game." The Fox broadcasters dedicate this segment of the show to our military. I squirm in my seat. Sorry, but the declaration is about free people in free societies not militarism. Next up dis old cowboy Sam Elliot. He knows how to speak the language of real football fans. Finally, a man of the people. Sam introduced the cities. He starts with Pittsburgh. "Built on steel a place where terrible is good these are the enduring qualities of this great American City." The Steelers make a timely entrance onto the floor of the stadium, as millionaires erupt shaking their terrible towels. Sam's fuax folkism for Fox Sports continued. "Green Bay is Title Town the people never quit. Crafty veterans are winners exhorting all to greatness" Images of Lombardi's toothy grin fills my 72 inch screen. A visitation by America's Saint, the sanctifier of all competition anoints the proceeding, the quest to claim the trophy named for the games very own Archangel of the Gridiron. The extended gig of Lombardi's ghost has haunted America for over half a century; has reportedly been seen stalking the stage on Broadway. The anointed Packers sprint onto the field and millionaire cheese heads taking big bites out of life erupt in cheers. My hi def wide screen made by Sharp reports Battle of Los Angeles opens 3/11/11. The Chicago Code premiers on Fox sometime in March. Walter Payton Man of The Year Award is presented to an NFL Player watching the game with the troops in Iraq. The millionaires don't cheer, but the Fox announcers are verklempt overcome with patriotism. Michelle Lee, star of Fox's hit show Glee, poses in front of a sanitized choir in blue uniforms to sing America the Beautiful. The beautiful song is but an opening act for the musical centerpiece Star Spangled Banner. The cameras cut to a smiling W. He can't get into Switzerland but d****t, he won't be turned out of JJ's OK Corral. Christina Aguilera takes center stage. She mounts the silver football crowning the Holy Logo of the NFL to sing the hallowed Star Spangled Banner. She fumbles her lines! She forgot the rockets red glare! The Steelers are crying. The Packers are angry. Ice melts from the stadiums roof. The foundations of Jerry Jones new stadium shakes. A fly over of 4 fighters in formation appears to be unaffected by the flub. The planes do not crash. They stay in formation. The pilots spare Christina a strafing and drone strike. The republic remains secure for now. An unfamiliar announcer addresses TV land. He offers an apology to the fans who cannot be seated. The fire marshals have revoked Jerry's seating plan. Greed got the better of this man of the people. Cowboy Stadium is overbooked! What is happening? Is this America? An ATT commercial arrives just in time. ATT has a new plan for America. They encourage us to live social with the new ATT AG. Free market solutions always work best. Michael Douglas reads another patriotic exhortation. "United we, see the journey of Acme Packers as our journey." "We see the resolve of US Steel as our resolve. Big dreams believe the best journeys are celebrated together." (I'm down with that. Whats good for Jerry Jones is still good for me. Right On! Check this stadium. Power to the people! It may not apply to the people who will not be seated but tough nuggies. This is America d****t. Everybody can't be seated at the table. Even if they paid for their seat. This ain't Red China.) Neon Dion and other inductees into the Football Hall of Fame tosses the coin. Steelers' call tails. Heads it is. At half time The Black Eyed Peas descend from an upper Valhalla. Still attired in black fascist threads The Righteous Peas start wailing as white metallic minions dressed as Imperial Storm Troopers gallop to surround their idols. Precise formations goose steppin bops choreographic steps the visceral porno perfect counter-point to swabbles of wiggling Peas. Slash, Guns and Roses guitar hero gunslinger strode on stage winging this gal of mine in choreographed unison with the leggy Fergie. Pumping it louder the spectacle incites the dancing Imperial minions quick steppin and fetchin it as Usher descends in white unison to leap and dance over nasty black peas. The Gods are descending upon us. Their words have become flesh. The BEP's bleat "kids are dying wheres the love?" Art does mirror life. The neon hearts of cheap glow sticks light up the time of our lives. We are cubed box heads happily dancing along the 50 yard line answering China's resounding drum of frantic proletarians bashing away neocolonial disgrace during the opening ceremony of the worlds greatest Olympian display of the pounding will of an emerging nation arriving on the world stage with urgent insistence. In America we party on every night swiping revoked credit cards for express lane exits at the local Walmart. We are proud highly personal bar codes! We refuse to be marked down and flung into discount bins at a Tupelo Dollar Store. Our light of life flashes across screens directing the trading pits at the Chicago Board of Trade. Each Super Bowl Sunday souper bowl beggars collect canned soup for hungry Americans at the local Shop and Drop begging for larmen boxes of Kraft freeze dried noodles and cans of Progresso the feast of kings A triumph of the Will I Am BOOM BOOM Says Will I Am I finish my bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and lick my partners fingers clean. 2/7/11 Oakland jbm (WIP) © 2012 riskrapperReviews
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1 Review Added on April 28, 2012 Last Updated on May 4, 2012 Tags: Super Bowl, football, commercialism, media, American culture Author
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