Every Single Product Advertised in the Super Bowl, Reviewed by Me
Every year, millions of people around the country gather around the TV to witness the country's most important ritual: The Super Bowl Commercials.
In recent years, however, it seems many people have started tuning in to the Super Bowl for the football game or for the halftime show, instead of, as is proper, for the commercials. Is a crisis at hand? Is it possible that the commercials were no longer up to snuff? Had we fallen from the artistic heights of the Pets.com sock puppet?
To find out, I undertook a mission, in the weeks following the Super Bowl, to try every single product advertised* and investigate as to whether its commercial truly reflected the qualities contained in the product. What follows is my report.
*Except for the movies that didn't come out and a small handful of other products—you'll see, we don't have to get into it right now.
Bud Light®
The Commercial:
Are you #UpForWhatever? This is the question posed, by a bartender, to the young male lead of the Bud Light Super Bowl commercial after he requests a Bud Light. I, personally, am not #UpForWhatever—I am generally up for very little, outside of the context of trying every product advertised during the Super Bowl for a blog post, during which I am #UpForEverything—but it certainly seems like this guy is #UpForWhatever.
After being taken to a second location, he explains to a friend: "She's like, 'Are you down for anything?' I'm like, 'Of course! Just give me the beer!"
Actually, uh, buddy? She wanted to know if you were "up for whatever." That this misstatement of the brand's core message was not subject to a cut and a second take seems very relaxed, on the part of Bud Light—as if they, too, are #UpForWhatever, particularly when it comes to the words with which their commercial subjects choose to describe the general vibe of a night fueled by Bud Light. Incredible. (And if I can speak directly to the young man in the commercial for a minute: A Bud Light usually costs around $4—please, in the future, don't feel like you have to surrender your autonomy in an open-ended contract with your bartender wherein she gains complete control over your actions and decision-making in order to receive one. Simply give him or her the $4, and leave $1 as a tip. [$5 total.])
The man, having confirmed he is both up for whatever and down for anything, puts a giant coin into a machine and is taken to an arena where he is forced to perform as the "Pac Man" in a life-sized game of Pac Man. OK. Buy Bud Light, maybe you will end up in a life-sized game of Pac Man.
After the game is finished, he is given—finally—a Bud Light. "This is all I've wanted all day!" he exclaims. Pathetic. "I love this life!" he shouts. Sad.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
People are constantly asking me "are you #UpForWhatever?" and as a consequence I am regularly forced to participate in life-size historical video-game re-enactments spurred on by a cheering crowd.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
To begin my Super Bowl product marathon, I bought Bud Light and various other snacks at the drugstore with Gawker Editor-in-Chief Max Read. He broke the credit card swipe machine. We were both carded. No one asked if we were #UpForWhatever.
Bud Light doesn't taste like much of anything, which is perfect. A good slogan for Bud Light would be, "Bud Light: Are You #UpForSeltzerButWorse #OrMaybeBetterActuallyBecauseItMakesYouFeelALittleRelaxed #ButWorseAsFarAsTasteGoes #ButThenAgainOnlySlightly."
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
Rather than a life-sized game of Pac Man where you are the Pac Man, a representation closer to the experience of drinking a Bud Light would be: You show up at a bar, and the bar has a Pac Man/Galaga table, and the machine takes your quarters on the second try. All right!
Snickers®
The Commercial:
Danny Trejo is in the house from tycoThe Brady Bunch. What? He is acting as if he were Marcia Brady. What? Oh. It is Marcia. She was hungry. She only needed a Snickers.
Steve Buscemi is there, also. What? Oh—he also only needed a Snickers. He's Jan. :)
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
I am a selkie who lives with the Bradys. Instead of a seal, I am Marcia; instead of sealskin, Snickers.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
The chocolate is waxy and the peanuts are waxy. This product makes me feel like I'm wasting the joy of eating a candy bar on a candy bar I don't like (a Snickers) rather than a candy bar I do like (a Milky Way). Rather than soothed, I am made slightly upset.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
Danny Trejo's consumption of the flavorless waxy Snickers bar is simply another surreal component of the Kafkaesque Brady Bunch hell the acclaimed actor has found himself in.
Doritos®
The Commercial:
A man who looks like Mike Birbigla but who is not Mike Birbiglia sits in an airplane aisle seat, guarding the middle seat from use by other passengers through various methods—pretending he is ill, clipping his toenails, flossing, etc. Passengers seemingly without assigned seats fall into his trap, passing him by, leaving him with the extra space an empty middle seat provides.
The commercial seems to want us to believe this airline operates as if it were a Greyhound bus, rather than an airline. Yes, fine: On some budget airlines you do get to choose your seat. OK. But let me ask you this: Is that system of airline seating recognizable enough to be used as not only the standard in but the entire premise of a nationally broadcast snack commercial? The answer, clearly, is yes. "My bad." (Not my bad.)
The man quits his ruse upon seeing a bodacious blonde babe. At this point, deciding he'd rather have the babe than the extra space, he takes out his Doritos bag, the top of which has clearly been opened with scissors, which is improbable. She seems interested. Bodies shift. It is revealed that she, too, will be seated with a babe—a baby, that is.
At least you still have your Doritos, cleanly opened with scissors, which is improbable.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
The only new life experience I can imagine based on this commercial is one involving a gross man asking me if I want any of his toenail clipping- and sneeze-filled Dortitos. I don't! But thank you!
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
Doritos are pretty great—at first. They taste good, mostly crunch with a distinctly Dorito-y flavor, and it's fun to chomp on them. Best of all, eating Doritos reminds me of a time in my life when I looked forward to eating Doritos.
Later, after absent-mindedly eating from the bag of Doritos at work, eating the Doritos feels less like a fun throwback to my days poolside at my aunt's house, fingers caked with cheese powder and chlorine, and more like an entropic slip into a body-shaped orange powder-filled garbage bag. I am no longer participating in a multi-volume nostalgic reverie. I am just eating Doritos. (Still tasty.)
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
Instead of a commercial that forces you to consider the added anxiety of flying with a budget airline and makes you imagine disgusting shit in your Doritos bag (in addition to the ingredients of Doritos) Doritos should have a commercial that says: "Remember what Doritos taste like, and how fun it is to chomp on them?" Most, I bet, would respond, "I do."
Skittles®
The Commercial:
Two men on a porch argue over which of them gets to eat the last yellow Skittle, which they categorize as "lemon." They decide to "settle it the usual way." All the people in the town have one big arm and one little arm. Is "the usual way" a masturbation duel? No. "The usual way" is an arm wrestling contest.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
I find Skittles enjoyable and their flavors distinguishable.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
Skittles taste uniformly like garbage.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
A woman eats a handful of Skittles. "Tastes bad," she says.
Coke®
The Commercial:
Across the world, Internet users receive messages of hate and consume angry, hateful content. Somewhere in a server room, a man spills a Coke. Careless. Now the Internet is flooded with Coke vibes. Vibes of love—allegedly. "The world is what we make it," says the commercial. #MakeItHappy
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
I am oddly happier. The internet is a nicer place. I recognize it to be true that Coke is my friend. Coke is more than a friend: Coke is a sentient being of some unknown kind that, given sudden access to vast and powerful networks of information, censors and expurgates communication.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
The Internet is the Internet: a hate-filled garbage dump. Coke is Coke: an evil brand whose disgusting product will give you diabetes and also cancer. On top of that, for my taste, Coke is too carbonated and flavor is displeasing. However, I know from my past experience with Coke that it is nice to drink when you have a hangover.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
In the original spot, the Coke vibes turn the messages of hate into messages of happiness. Unfortunately, the Coke vibes never reach the messages before the Internet users can glean their original, hate-filled content. Hmm. Maybe if Coke were so intent on making the Internet happier, it would get to these hateful messages before the recipients became aware of their original purpose. One can, at best, imagine the Internet users in this commercial thinking, "The people I know in real life still hate me and want me to feel emotional pain, but at least a brand wants Internet users in general—of which I am one—to be happy."
Alternately, anything that does not give ill-mannered bloggers the opportunity to force a multinational brand to tweet the opening of Mein Kampf.
Always®
The Commercial:
A group of young men and women are asked to act out negative female stereotypes. Boy oh boy, do they play right into the director's hands—running "like a girl," throwing "like a girl," fighting "like a girl."
Then, we're introduced to a group of young girls. When they're asked to perform the same tasks, they do it with intensity and strength. "Let's make #LikeAGirl mean amazing things," says the commercial.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
It is the 2016 Super Bowl and a team has won. I am watching the game with a formerly unrepentant sexist. "We really got 'em!" he shouts. "Those fuckin' incredible pussies played #LikeAGirl the whole time, and we still got 'em! We're the best!" What? Oh my god. Pussy is no longer a pejorative. #LikeAGirl means amazing things. In his underwear, there is a maxi pad—he'll do anything to feel a bit girlier for the big game. All because I bought Always.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
I bought a package of Always with Gawker Editor-In-Chief Max Read during the same trip we took to buy Bud Light and most of the snacks. "Pick the one that you're most drawn to," he told me. How freeing! I picked the "Radiant Infinity" pads, because the box was shiny. This product, like all period products, makes me feel one thing very acutely: anger regarding the fact that men do not have to get periods.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
How about we make #LikeAGirl mean, "Men have to get periods #LikeAGirl now, every single month." That sounds amazing to me.
Weight Watchers®
The Commercial:
"Wanna get baked? Glazed? Iced? Fried?" asks the voice of Aaron Paul over shots of muffins, iced drinks, donuts, and fried food. "Yes," I think. Yes! Without a doubt, no questions asked, I want to get fucked up on food with Aaron Paul. I want Aaron Paul—without a beard, dressed as Jesse Pinkman when he was doing all right—and I also want all of the food in this commercial. It is shot beautifully—the fast food is commercial-quality fast food, rather than real life fast food; the desserts are stunning; the candy is vibrant. Aaron Paul sounds so hot, like he always does.
The words "It's time to take back control" appear on the screen, as the commercial comes to an end. Aww. Over already, commercial?
"Weight Watchers."
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
I join Weight Watchers and Aaron Paul calls me. We go on vacation and he orders us an expensive dinner. The lighting is dim. He picks the wine and knows what I like. We have so much to say to each other.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
I attended a Weight Watchers meeting one bitterly cold morning a few days after the Super Bowl aired. Upon arriving and checking in, I was not asked to weigh in or buy into a Weight Watchers plan before sitting down, in direct opposition with the signing-in ritual for which the Weight Watchers website prepared me. "Do you just want to have a seat and see what you think of the meeting?" the kind woman behind the desk asked. Yes! This was a nice surprise as that was exactly what I wanted to do. "Are you just writing about this for a blog, something I can tell by your face and am angry with you about?" she did not ask, though my whole body felt like she did for the entire hour-long meeting.
Aaron Paul was not in attendance. This, though not a surprise, was still sad—would have loved to see Aaron Paul.
The meeting started, appropriately enough, with a conversation about the Super Bowl commercial. Everyone liked it! The overall vibe of the room was very pleasant and optimistic. No one knew who Aaron Paul was (maybe because he didn't show up for the meeting?), but one woman did know that he was "Someone from Breaking Bad, a show about drugs that [she does] not watch."
Next, everyone was asked to speak about the triumphs and failings of their past week, if they wanted to. Because it was my first day, I was also asked to speak about why I was there "if I felt comfortable," which I did not, no offense to Weight Watchers, all offense to myself and this project, but I spoke aloud anyway, as I was put on the spot. I said I was there because I saw the Super Bowl commercial (not a lie!) and wanted to start eating healthy (not a lie, necessarily—though mostly a lie, yes). Everyone clapped and I was given a gold star sticker—a tell-tale sticker which haunts me from the pocket of my hoodie to this day.
The rest of the meeting was spent discussing activities we enjoy, the things that keep us from enjoying those activities, and how to make those activities more of a priority. We also discussed tips for eating out without overindulging. Everyone was kind and encouraging of each other. Women petered in at different points throughout the meeting, which I did not know was allowed. Would have loved to peter in after the introductory section.
As the meeting came to an end, the Weight Watchers instructor asked the "new people" (me) to stay after so she could talk to "them" (me) about the Weight Watchers products. I ran outside before putting my coat on.
Overall, this product made me feel like I was encroaching on a safe space, save for the Weight Watchers snack hard sell at the end, which I can't imagine anyone feels comfortable with.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
This was a great commercial, and the only thing to have made it better would have been for it to exist in a universe where my editor did not make me attend a Weight Watchers meeting at which I was clearly rudely intruding.
T-Mobile®
The Commercial:
There were two big T-Mobile commercials this year. In one of them, Kim Kardashian [something about selfies]. In another, Sarah Silverman and Chelsea Handler compete over who has the better cell phone reception in the different fancy rooms of their big mansion homes. At one point, in her "underground delivery room," Sarah Silverman apologizes to a new mother who has just given birth to a boy. "Sorry, it's a boy," she says, which is a good joke. (Men on Twitter got mad about it, but who cares—honestly I do not even care about it enough to provide a link in order to prove that what I'm saying is true.)
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
I walk around my apartment on the phone willingly engaging in a conversation with someone I dislike and with whom I feel uncontrollably competitive. Having exhausted our typical topics for mutual attempted undermining, we compare cell phone carriers. "I can hear you in my room," I say. "Clear in my living room." "Clear in my kitchen." I realize this is a low point, however I cannot keep myself from engaging. "I can hear you in my bathroom, and now I'm walking back through the kitchen and living room and now I'm in my bedroom and I can still hear you." Damn. What am I doing. Also Kim Kardashian [something about selfies].
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
On the same bitterly cold morning I visited Weight Watchers, I escaped the sharp wind blowing against my face and tearing apart the delicate flesh on my Super Bowl product-testing fingers (I forgot gloves) by ducking into a T-Mobile store. "What can I help you with?" asked a cheerful employee. "I'm just looking around," I responded, which is, I understand now and understood fully at the time, not something one generally does in the storefronts of cell phone providers. Then I began to look at the phones, sort of—look, look, look, look at the phones.
After a few moments, a different employee approached me, asking, "What are you looking for today?" "Ohh, just looking around," I said. "OK—Cause I was looking at you and I was like, 'Does she need help?', so I just figured I'd let you know that I was here to help."
"Ahhh—Yeah, thanks! Just looking."
I left the store and a dirty garbage bag immediately blew onto my body, which is the fault of no one, least of all T-Mobile, but still—an unfortunate surprise.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
Kim Kardashian watches you from the screen and asks you if you need help every 50 seconds or so.
Sprint®
The Commercial:
Between shots of the screaming goat you know from the Internet—this goat is at least as big a star as Chelsea Handler—Sprint "apologizes" to Verizon and AT&T. They're too expensive, Sprint says. Sprint is cutting its customers bills in half, Sprint says. Sprint is being sarcastic, though—Sprint is not actually sorry.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
I ask Sprint a reasonable question and rather than give me a straightforward response, Sprint screams like a goat and then offers a sarcastic apology. Wow—fucking jerk.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
In one of multiple failed attempts to "kill two birds with one stone," if you're familiar with the phrase, I visited a Sprint store in search of a Mophie—another product I had to obtain in accordance with the terms of this project. The store was very tiny and the only people inside were three Sprint employees, each of whom was facing the door when I walked in, which, I have to admit, was startling. I asked if they sell Mophies, and they did not, even though a website that I checked prior to my visit told me they would.
They informed me, however, that they have products that are exactly like Mophies, just without the name "Mophie."
Not good enough for me, Sprint.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
Just the goat and nothing else.
Budweiser®
The Commercial:
A sweet puppy and a horse are friends. The puppy, an idiot, jumps into a horse-transporting trailer and is taken away, only to jump out into traffic. Puppy, where is your brain? For a spell, the puppy is lost. He cowers under a box, hiding from the rain. He finally makes his way to a hill near his home, only to be confronted by—uh oh—a wolf.
Luckily, Puppy's horse friend hears his pup cries and comes to his rescue. His owner bathes him. He has a little puppy stumble on a hay bail. He is safe.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
Budweiser is a puppy, and when I buy Budweiser I buy a puppy.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
Budweiser is a beer, instead of a puppy. The beer is fine and, to be honest, I don't really feel like I'm at a point in my life when I can (or, at least, want to) care for a puppy anyway. Someday, though. :)
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
The puppy and the horse mostly keep to themselves. The man feeds and exercises them. The wolf stays far away.
Jublia®
The Commercial:
Jublia and toenail fungus are facing off in their own Super Bowl. "Who wins?" you're wondering. Always focused on the end result, typical you. "Who wins?" Fine. Julbia wins.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
School, work, home, toe fungus: All of life is a relentless competition against others for dominance.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
I don't have toenail fungus (not bragging) and I couldn't find this product at any of the drugstores I visited in the bitter cold of early February. I couldn't even find it online, so whatever. Maybe some tycoon's kid just made the commercial for a class. Maybe it's prescription only. I bet if I used it I still wouldn't have toenail fungus (not bragging).
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
A woman searches Brooklyn for Jublia in the bitter cold of early February. She cannot find it. She lies down in a pile of snow, defeated. Though she is not bragging, she must admit that she does not suffer from toenail fungus anyway. She closes her eyes. The end. Buy Jublia—if you can (and must).
McDonald's®
The Commercial:
A supposedly hidden camera shows that rather than allow customers to use money, McDonald's forces them to demean themselves for food. Hamilton wrote all about it.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
There are hidden cameras in McDonald's, a fast food restaurant where money is no longer enough to purchase your accelerated death. I stop by a McDonald's when I am at the airport or perhaps on some sort of a long road trip. I ask for a McGriddle. The McDonald's employees laugh. "What are you laughing at?" I ask, defensively. "Haha—nothing," says one of them, "You can have your McGriddle if you...scream your crush's name real loud." Oh my god. What?! "Yeah, scream it into that corner." I look into the corner—is that a camera? "Am I being filmed?" I ask. "Haha—no," he says.
What the fuck.
I leave without the McGriddle, though I always wonder whether or not my crush would be mine had I only called out his name.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
I went to McDonald's, the 400th establishment I've visited so far in accordance with the terms of this assignment (if you don't believe me feel free to go back and count yourself—you'll find that it is true, I assure you) and paid with money, thank God. The food was exactly what I knew it would be (garbage) which, in a way, was, and always is, nice.
And if I can tell you the truth, I do enjoy a McGriddle every now and then.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
Instead of people being publicly humiliated in order to obtain their processed tortured animal meat, they are allowed to exchange currency for it.
Victoria's Secret ®
The Commercial:
Hot ladies in lingerie make sex faces at the camera.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
I'm a hot lady.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
Immediately upon walking into Victoria's Secret, I was greeted by a man who inquired about my bra and panty sizes. That's fine. I'm a cool woman who needs no time to adjust between walking out of the biting, nearly uninhabitable cold into a store full of butt mannequins and mild sex lace. I told him size [none of your business] and h e more or less picked out both items for me from the section that seemed to hold the Valentine's Day collection, which was the subject of the Super Bowl commercial. Great. I did not pick up a $225 bra, the most recognizable—to me—from the ad, even though I wanted to because it was the nicest looking.
After choosing, he pointed me in the direction of the dressing rooms, where a woman immediately asked if I knew my bra size. Damn, I thought I was past this hurdle. What do these Victoria's Secret employees know that I don't know about my grasp on what should be elemental facts of my life? I tell her, less confident now, umm, yes? Yes. I do? She tells me she is a bra expert and can help if I need her. Thank you.
The lighting in the dressing room was very flattering. If there were a Victoria's Secret Dressing Room Bar, and we were ranking bars based on lighting, it would be my favorite bar.
Purchasing the Victoria's Secret products has not turned me into Karlie Kloss, very unfortunately, I would love to have my own room in Taylor Swift's apartment, but they are slightly more uncomfortable than my normal undergarments and were certainly more expensive. Also they are kind of hot, not that that is any of your business.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
This commercial is fine.
Mophie®
The Commercial:
Apocalypse scenarios play out at the end of the world—things float in the air, a tree combusts, fish fall from the sky. A man gets hit by a car, rather startlingly, but stands right back up. A dog walks a man. A priest steals a TV. What's this, some kinda movie? No—some kinda Mophie. (A product.)
In heaven we see that God has let his phone run out of battery: the cause of all of this. Oh, God, you fucking idiot. If only you had a Mophie, the name of a cell phone case that recharges your phone. Or, really, if only you'd just plugged your phone in, assuming that we are seeing you in Heaven, which is your home. No real need to use your Mophie in your home, God. Just plug in your phone!
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
The world will literally come to an end if I do not buy a Mophie.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
I purchased this product for $100, which is a lot, at the Apple Store—a bright, clean store where Apple employees descend on you like a school of fish descending on a human entering an Apple Store. The friendly Apple Store employee who pointed me towards the Mophie cases explained to me that I could buy a Mophie, which I asked for explicitly, or I could buy a non-Mophie brand iPhone case charger which would cost less and be better. I had to pretend to think about it until he left. Hmm, which do I want? Hmm.
That night I got home and had only a few minutes to get myself together before having to go out again, to a party (not bragging). My phone was at 15%. After resigning myself to spending the night at a party (not bragging) without a full charge, I remembered—"Wait, I have that thing." I put the thing on my phone, which increased its weight by roughly 400%, and went on my way. It worked!
I say, if your company is willing to buy you a Mophie as part of a Super Bowl-related stunt: let them. It's good for if you need to go to a party! Should you spend 100 of your own dollars on it? I don't know. You could just remember to keep your phone charged, but I once spent $100 on a scented candle, so I'm not one to judge what you do with your $100.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial, Based on Real-Life Experience:
God attends a party even though His phone (earth) has only a 15% charge. After about half an hour of use, He is forced to interact with people at the party face-to-face rather than people not at the party via text. Damn.
Foot Locker®
The Commercial:
Nick Cannon harasses Damian Lillard about being the Portland Trail Blazers' "signature celebrity." Lillard is not sold on the idea of Cannon until he looks around the room to see an eager Joey Fatone and even more eager Ian Ziering. Backed into a corner by Cannon's shrewd salesmanship, Lillard bestows the title on Cannon.
Lillard, my man. There are other rooms!
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
I will fade away. My accomplishments will become the setup to a joke, the punchline of which is: My life. I will be left with no choice but to act as if I am "in" on the joke. I will tell myself if I must have shame, I would rather it be personal shame than public.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
One very cold morning after the Super Bowl I walked into a Foot Locker in Soho, Manhattan and asked if they sold Skechers. The employees looked at me like I was some sort of lunatic. I asked, "What about the other Foot Locker nearby, would that Foot Locker have Skechers?" A lady radioed another employee, asked, looked at me, and said, "Nah..."
Too good for Skechers, I guess. Fair enough.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
In the conversation between Damian Lillard and Nick Cannon, it is somehow made clear that the Foot Locker in Soho, Manhattan does not sell Skechers, for example in a line of dialogue: "By the way, Damian, if you're looking to purchase Skechers, don't try the Foot Locker in Soho."
Skechers®
The Commercial:
Pete Rose, excluded from the Baseball Hall of Fame after a gambling scandal, walks down a hallway in Skechers. A lady pops out of a doorway and says, "Pete, you're not supposed to be in the hall," which is a joke that makes no sense. Why would a 73-year-old man not be allowed in a particular hallway of his home? "Even at home?" he asks.
Yes, Pete Rose. You are not allowed in either the Baseball Hall of Fame or this arbitrary hallway in your own home, which you admitted at the beginning of the commercial to "love being in," calling it the "perfect place to walk down memory lane" in your Skechers. God damn.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
I will fade away. My accomplishments will become the setup to a joke, the punchline of which is: My life. I will be left with no choice but to act as if I am "in" on the joke. I will tell myself if I must have shame, I would rather it be personal shame than public.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
At a shoe store that is not Foot Locker, I picked out a benign-looking pair of Skechers. They were pretty nice: mostly navy, a little bit of pink. I told the shoe store employee my size and he told me to have a seat. Later, he brought me a shoebox and explained, "They didn't have your size in that one, so I grabbed this box." Huh. Not exactly the way buying shoes works, my friend.
I opened the box to find not a variation of the demure Skechers I'd chosen. Instead, I found Skechers that were not even currently on display in the store—special Sketchers, Sketchers screaming from their shoebox, Skechers covered in pink flamingos and brightly-colored tropical plants. A bit of respite from the cold, maybe. A little vacation. Sail away with Skechers, to somewhere very loud. "I'll take them!" I tell the man. He takes a look at the shoes—the looks of which are a surprise to him, as well—and asks if I'm sure. I tell him, "Yep!" He tells me they're new, and he likes them too.
Though made with memory foam, the shoes are not particularly comfortable. I do like them, though. They're very stupid.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial, Based on Real-Life Experience:
Pete Rose is walking around his home in tropical-printed Skechers sneakers. No one tells him what to do: It is his home, and he deserves to walk where he pleases. He goes to the kitchen and stands for a long time in front of an open fridge, a minor sin for which he receives no rebuke. He is comfortable in his shoes and under his roof. He makes himself a sandwich. He smiles. Skechers.
Heroes Charge®
The Commercial:
This commercial is notably bad in a way that is almost sweet, but not quite. It lasts for 15 seconds and looks like an ad that would auto-play in the corner of a website you reached by accident. Game developer Ucool's chief marketing officer Tony Cerrato spoke to GamesBeat about how shitty it is:
"We realized that we did not put together what can be classified as a 'Super Bowl commercial,'" said Cerrato. "We edited down a more robust 30 second commercial to 15 seconds, and we focused on the game and character interaction instead a celebrity like the others.
"The well-received Super Bowl commercials were either a combination of being funny, sentimental, sexy, or spectacular. The top commercials contained one or more of these traits and they were localized for the audience. This is a lesson learned and we hope to be able to take this into consideration next year."
Live and learn.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
I play Heroes Charge and it sucks.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
This game sucks.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
There is nothing about the actual experience of this game that would make for a compelling advertisement.
Game of War®
The Commercial:
Kate Upton—not a V.O. artist, no offense, she has a lot going for her, she doesn't need to be a good V.O. artist—takes a sultry bath. She seems to be enjoying herself, having a relaxing time, until the bath is interrupted by a cannonball blast. Uh-oh. The thing about empires," she says, "the bigger you build them, the more your enemies wanna knock them down." Sure.
Upton rides in slow motion through what we can only assume is her empire while monsters destroy it. Her head and décolletage are exposed to the possibility of horrific injury while she stares at the camera while smiling in a way that makes you think, "What are you smiling about? Your empire is being destroyed by monsters and your head and décolletage are currently exposed, which is extremely dangerous."
"Let them have their fun," she says. "You and I will revisit them soon enough." OK.
"Do you wanna come and play?" she asks as the commercial comes to an end, making you think of sex.
While watching the Super Bowl, a friend told me Kate Upton was paid "millions of dollars" to appear in this ad. I cannot find confirmation of that online, but the ad campaign did have a $40 million budget, which is a lot for a shitty fucking god damn cell phone game that sucks. She probably got paid so much. Can you imagine?
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
Kate Upton is a complicated megalomaniac with a death wish, building empires only to flee them without proper armor at the slightest hint of a threat. I am a person who will have sex with her, maybe, if I download and play this cell phone game.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
I play the game, hate it, and feel like I'm accidentally doing things that are charging me real money rather than game money.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
At the very least she should wear a helmet as she rides through a battle!!!
Clash of Clans®
The Commercial:
Liam Neeson plays Clash of Clans on his iPhone and performs a little monologue when he loses, reminiscent of his Taken monologue:
"I don't know you, BigBuffetBoy85, but if you think you can humiliate me and take my gold, think again. Oh, I am coming for you with lots of barbarians and dragons. I can't wait to destroy your village, while you beg for mercy, but you will get no mercy. I will have my revenge. You will regret the day you crossed AngryNeeson52."
OK.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
I play this game and think, "Huh. This is a game fun enough for Liam Neeson, Hollywood celebrity, to play."
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
I hate this game. I don't know how to play it and now it keeps texting me, asking me to come back and play it. I don't know how! Also it seems boring, a lot of clicking.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
Liam Neeson keeps saying "Hey come back, your warriors need a leader," "Hey come back, your warriors need a leader," "Hey come back, your warriors need a leader," and you're just like—Liam, please.
Dove Men+Care®
The Commercial:
Sweet babies cry out for their daddies and, rather than neglect them, their daddies come and give 'em hugs. "What makes a man stronger?" asks the commercial. "Showing that he cares."
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
I wear Dove Men+Care deodorant to brunch and rather than merely wave and make faces at the brunch babies while their parents aren't looking, I approach the brunch babies and hug them. It's great and I love it.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
I wore Dove Men+Care deodorant for a day, even though I am not a father. I wouldn't say it made me any more affectionate, but I am already quite affectionate, so maybe the change was negligible. I like the smell, for a man, and would use this deodorant in a pinch even though I'm all woman, baby.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
The men aren't negligent fathers regardless of their chosen deodorant.
Avocados From Mexico®
The Commercial:
It's the "First Draft Ever," and Mexico has drafted the avocado. Smart.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
Avocados are great, and so is guacamole.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
Avocados are great, and so is guacamole.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
None. Avocados are great. So is guacamole.
Loctite®
The Commercial:
Everyone loved this 30-second commercial, which features a bunch of weirdos dancing to a fun little glue song while wearing red Loctite fanny packs. AdWeek named it the third best Super Bowl ad of 2015. How about that, a glue ad. Good for this glue ad, I guess.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
I buy glue and am trapped in a dance party that, no offense, I'd rather not be a part of. Everyone is having fun and—I feel rude saying so, but—I would like to leave very much.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
I could not find this product, which I understand, along with the Jublia omission, corrodes the conceit of this entire Super Bowl commercial project, but give me a fucking break. I'm sure it glues things fine. Want me to pretend I found it in one of the two stores in which I looked for it, in the bitter cold? OK, here we go: "It glues things fine."
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
N/A
Esurance ®
The Commercial:
There was a lot of talk about how depressing the Super Bowl ads were this year, but perhaps the most depressing of all was the Esurance commercial that featured Bryan Cranston as Walter White. Bryan, my man. Bryan.
The commercial finds us at a pharmacy with Walter White behind the counter—or, rather, with "Greg" behind the counter. Sort of. Would you pick up your prescription from sort of Greg, the commercial asks? You wouldn't!
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
Using Esurance, you will never be lumped in with fictional characters played by actors who should understand that they don't need to squeeze every last bit they can out of a popular television series they were a part of—a series that somewhat recently came to an end—because, if they want it, they should be able to maintain a fairly robust and respectable career. They're not Aaron Paul, man. No one's giving them a pass.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
I talked to an Esurance agent on the phone after he called multiple times exclusively not during the time period when I said I would be available (after 5pm), and he did not particularly understand why I wanted life insurance. "Did you just get married?" he asked. No. "Are you thinking about getting married soon?" he asked. GET OFF MY BACK! "Is this for a blog post, meaning you're wasting my time at work, and also your own time at work, since I straight up refuse to call during the time you specified?," he didn't ask—but he should have.
After running through some questions about my health and my family's health history, and explaining the difference between whole and term life insurance (one of them causes you to die from boredom on the phone with an insurance agent, the other one causes you to die from boredom on the phone with an insurance agent but costs 4x more), he gives me a quote: $17 a month until I'm 47. It's a term plan. OK. He asks if we should set up a date to have a nurse come out to my apartment to give me a physical. I say, "Nooo thanks, byeee."
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
Aaron Paul soothingly explains the difference between whole and term life insurance.
Nationwide ®
The Commercial:
In probably the most talked about commercial from the Super Bowl, the Nationwide commercial focuses on a dead boy. Like a little ghost, sort of. He speaks from beyond the grave:
"I'll never learn to ride a bike, or get cooties. I'll never learn to fly, or travel the world with my best friend. I'll never get married. I couldn't grow up, because I died from an accident."
I'm sorry, bud. Parents should've had Nationwide.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
My kid lives forever, because I got Nationwide.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
Like Esurance, Nationwide called—five times a day!—exclusively not when I asked. I could have picked up the phone—I am a blogger, which is not a real job—but I was so mad about having to do it with Esurance, and so mad about how many times Nationwide was calling me every day, damn, that I refused.
I'll never learn what my insurance rate would be, or have the difference between whole and term life insurance explained to me by another agent, because I died from stubbornness.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
The kid says, "I'll never learn to ride a bike, or get cooties. I couldn't grow up, because I died from an accident. Choose Nationwide, choose Esurance, choose Geico: It matters not. The time we spend on this planet is governed by cruel fate, not by accident coverage, which is largely similar across carriers."
Cure ®
The Commercial:
Fucking blue dot.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
Some stupid blue dot.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
I filled out Cure's form online, which was very brief, and Cure was supposed to call me with a quote, but they never did. Maybe some of the Nationwide calls were from Cure, actually, come to think of it. Huh.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
You can tell Cure doesn't want to spend enough money to construct even a relatively pleasing ad, so perhaps, instead of some fucking dot, it should just be a title card: "Cure (it's insurance [cure.com])."
Geico ®
The Commercial:
A reunited Salt-n-Pepa instruct people to, "Ah, push it."
"If you're Salt-n-Pepa, you tell people to 'push it'—it's what you do," says the commercial. "If you want to save 15% or more on car insurance, you switch to Geico. It's what you do."
Salt-n-Pepa look good!
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
Salt-n-Pepa follow me around, doomed to sing the hook to their 1988 hit ad infinitum, in way that seems like it for sure sucks for them, and also for me.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
The above screenshot run for 30 seconds.
TurboTax®
The Commercial:
To quote Just Jared, "The commercial was a spoof of the Boston Tea Party."
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
I am filled with aggression and revolutionary fervor. I am oppressed and persecuted by a distant and unfeeling government, which demands my wealth but refuses my voice. But it turns out I am just sort of annoyed at having to do my taxes, a problem TurboTax solves. I return to life as a loyal citizen.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
If I can be honest with you—and, at this point, I think I can—the TurboTax portion of this project was one of the portions I was looking forward to most. I hate doing my taxes very much and was excited to have a reason to get them finished. "Oh, my taxes? I've already finished them," I imagined saying. "Oh, you haven't finished your taxes? You should do it! It's so nice to just have them out of the way."
Unfortunately, I was not provided with all of the documents necessary in order to do my taxes before having to finish this Super Bowl project. (I began working on this project when I was born. For the purpose of symmetry, I had to finish it upon my death, which occurred shortly after receiving my Geico insurance quote.) I've used TurboTax for the past two years, however, and I've found it to be fine.
Who knows when I'll do my taxes now. End of March, I bet.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
It seems worth pointing out somewhere that the company that owns TurboTax, Intuit, is actively involved in lobbying the U.S. government to make taxes difficult and complicated, so that its products continue to have a market. In this sense TurboTax is not the cure-all to to the rebellious anger of the patriots, but in fact a primary cause. Makes you think.
Microsoft®
The Commercial:
S ix-year-old Braylon O'Neill was born missing the tibia and fibula bones in both of his legs. Because of Microsoft technologies, he can walk—heck, he can even play sports.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
My life is not particularly different but I feel good knowing that I have purchased a product made by a company whose technology has been used in the process of making Braylon O'Neill's life better.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
Braylon's doctors attempt to analyze his gait mechanics but give up after six hours because they keep accidentally switching to "Track Changes" and can't figure out how to stop it.
GoDaddy®
The Commercial:
A man sits at a table. A voiceover informs us that he is sitting at this table and working on his small business, rather than enjoying the Super Bowl with his friends and loved ones. GoDaddy is for this kind of person, says GoDaddy: The kind of person who works on his small business rather than attends a party. OK.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
Boring!
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
Boring! The website is not fun to click through and I kept forgetting my password (admittedly my own fault). However I was pleased to find that my first choice for web address was still available: superbowldoritosbaby2015.com.
A friend pointed out that perhaps it would have been more beneficial to purchase superbowldoritosbaby2016.com, in case either the Super Bowl or Doritos wanted this domain next year (at which point either would have to pay me big bucks to pry it from my hands). Hmm. Maybe that friend was right. Please, I'm talking to you now, my audience: Please do not purchase superbowldoritosbaby2016.com. It is my idea and I might want it, in case the Super Bowl or Doritos wants it next year. Please be fair. Remember: This was not your idea.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
The man eventually manages to register his domain name and does go to the Super Bowl party, but the party is out of his favorite snack (wings).
SquareSpace®
The Commercial:
In this commercial, Jeff Bridges lulls a couple to sleep. Do you know he has a website he made using SquareSpace where you might buy his album (through which he lulls you to sleep) the proceeds of which go to charity? It's true.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
I will make a website of the same level of quality and professionalism as the website owned and theoretically operated by Jeff Bridges, a Hollywood celebrity, and indeed perhaps owning such a professional-looking website will allow me to take part in the same kind of peaceful contentedness for which Bridges is so well known.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
The thing about buying my domain on GoDaddy.com and making my website through SquareSpace is I had to spend a lot of time mapping my domain to...the...website. Or whatever. Here's one of the instructions I had to follow:
"In your provider's DNS manager, create a CNAME with these values:"
Haha. What? It was very frustrating. SquareSpace offered a GoDaddy-specific instruction guide, but the instruction guide did not match up with the version of GoDaddy that I was seeing. Maybe because I bought the least expensive GoDaddy package? I don't know. I hated doing this very much. In involved lots of strings of numbers and putting those strings of numbers into boxes, which is admittedly not a particularly daunting description of the task, but please believe me that it was annoying. I hated it.
I did it, though. And it worked. Seeing my website, superbowldoritosbaby2015.com, come to life was perhaps my highest point in this entire Super Bowl experiment. I did it. What an accomplishment. It was very difficult (as difficult as something any idiot is supposed to be able to do is difficult) and I did it. Do I feel like Jeff Bridges? No. I feel like Kelly Conaboy, mostly.
Please visit my website and, please, for the love of god, do not purchase superbowldoritosbaby2016.com. I might want that someday and, for the record, it was my idea.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
Rather than serene, Jeff Bridges is frustrated. "What is a CNAME?" he asks. Because he is a Hollywood celebrity, he is tempted to just have someone do it for him. He resists that temptation. Eventually, he manages to get it to work, but everyone in the room has woken up. Damn. Was it worth it?
Wix®
The Commercial:
I'm not watching it.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
I don't care.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
I'm not making another website.
Suggested Changes to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
I'm not making another website.
For whatever reason, Gawker Media refused to purchase for me each of the nine cars advertised during the Super Bowl. (Rude.) It's for the best, though, I guess. Alternate side parking would be a nightmare, and who could keep track of all of those keys. In lieu of owning and driving the cars myself, we asked Jalopnik's wonderful, very patient Jason Torchinsky to step in and give us some insight into what these cars are like outside of their glossy, sexy, often confusing commercials.
Toyota Camry®
The Commercial:
Audio from a famous Muhammad Ali speech plays while p aralympic athlete Amy Purdy runs, snowboards, dances, models, bikes, and drives—a Toyota Camry.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
A Toyota Camry will open my life to new experiences, push me to go further and try harder, and eventually make me an expert at all of my new hobbies. I'm having trouble recalling what the Toyota Camry looks like from the commercial, but I bet it's stylish, as well. Toyota Camry: The key to a full life.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
Torchinsky: My Camry will get me wherever you need to go, but it's so boring I sometimes forget and tell people I drive a Corolla because who gives a shit and I have a really hard time finding it in a parking lot. Why did I get one in silver?
Suggested Changes to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
Instead of Amy Purdy training, just some guy going to the supermarket; instead of Muhammad Ali talking, just some guy doing the traffic on the radio.
BMW i3 ®
The Commercial:
In a throwback Today Show clip from 1994, the year Kurt Cobain died, Bryant Gumbel and Katie Couric struggle with the concept of the Internet. Bryant Gumbel asks, "What is Internet anyway? What, do you write to it? Like mail?" Katie Couric asks, "Can you explain what Internet is?" These fucking dummies.
Fast forward to the future: 21 years later. Bryant Gumbel and Katie Couric, now with eerily realistic plastic faces, struggle over the concept of the BMW i3 like the dumb friend in an explainer article on a blog. "What do you mean there's nothing under the hood?" "And it's built using wind? Like, from a windmill?" These fucking dummies. "Big ideas take a little getting used to," says the commercial.
Katie Couric makes an unfortunate reference to twerking and the commercial comes to an end.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
I will have a job that I enjoy in this car and sometimes wonder what I would do for work if it were not for the BMW i3. In 21 years, everyone will have this car—even your grandma, who used to only have a version of this car on her TV because your dad bought it for her and set it up in her living room. Everyone will drive this car constantly even though it is a garbage dump full of hate, blogs, and photos of the children of people you knew in high school.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
Torchinsky: This is a pretty great car. Interesting materials inside, plenty of room, even if it's small. Too bad I can never find a stupid charging station anywhere. I wish I bought the one with the range-extender. I'm tired of getting stuck when my battery runs out, It keeps me from writing to the Internet. Like mail.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
"Buy the i3: It's got 'interesting materials inside'!"
Lexus ®
The Commercial:
Multiple Lexus cars drive around a glow-y parking garage, making music with their door slams and zooms and turn-on beepies. A sexy woman whips her hair back. Zoom zoom zoom. Beep. Click. A sexy man quickly turns to the side. A man dances. Zoom zoom. Click. Swish.
"Be seen. Be heard. Make some noise."
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
Life with this Lexus is a car-powered musical sequence. I see brief flashes of humanity but cannot reach it. I am stuck in a garage. Zoom. Swish. Beep.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
Torchinsky: I just realized I drive the same car as my dentist.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
All the dancing people are dentists?
Nissan®
The Commercial:
While Harry Chapin's "Cat's in the Cradle" plays, Nissan commercial actors more or less act out a race car version of the lyrics to Harry Chapin's "Cat's in the Cradle." A dad is a race car driver and never gets to see his son because he is too busy driving race cars. He packs up his brief case with his race car in the morning, zooms around 'til nighttime, then comes home, hangs his race car on the coat rack, and collapses into bed. (Or whatever.) His son grow and grows.
Later, his son is at college, or maybe it's high school. Dad has time for you now, son. He's gonna drive you home—in a Nissan.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
Dads don't raise their sons, but it's okay, because one day they will pick them up from either high school or college in a Nissan.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
Torchinsky: This Nissan sedan I'm in isn't anything like that GT-R or LMP1 car my hypothetical dad raced. At all. How am I going to ignore my son in a boring piece of crap like this?
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
Possibly using a song with similar themes that is not sung by a guy who died in a car accident.
Dodge®
The Commercial:
Elderly people offer wise advice, with increasing cheekiness, on how to live life. Did you know that Dodge was born in 1914? It's true.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
I will live to 100, and my Dodge will too. Upon my death, I won't regret a thing.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
Torchinsky: There's no way in hell I'm going to make it to anything remotely close to 100 years old, because I just bought a Dodge Challenger Hellcat with 707HP and I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing. I'll be dead in a month.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-World Experience:
The old people are forced to drive the Dodge as fast as it can go.
Kia ®
The Commercial:
Pierce Brosnan is in a meeting with someone like an agent, who is pitching him on a new project. Is it going to be a sexy project, like his sexy projects from when he was younger? No. It's going to be a less sexy project, more fitting to his current age. Buy a Kia.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
You age, and age, and you still look pretty good, and you still work, but it's not like it used to be. At least you have you Kia.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
Torchinsky: I'm in an SUV. It's fine. Does a storage space a 30 minutes from my house count as a cabin? It has some old Lincoln Logs in it.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-World Experience:
Pierce drives to Pilates in the Kia and seems decently happy. He's built a nice life for himself.
Jeep ®
The Commercial:
Beautiful scenes of beautiful places from around the world are shown as Marc Scibilia's rendition of "This Land Is Your Land" plays.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
I and my fellow Jeep owners will collectively own all the land in the world.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
Torchinsky: I have a new Jeep Renegade that's small and pretty cute, and I could technically take off-road but I only tried it once and my stupid neighbor made me pay to completely re-seed his vegetable garden. That jackass never got tomato one out of that thing.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
"This land is your land/Except for your neighbor's garden."
Fiat 500X ®
The Commercial:
A man throws his Viagra out the window by accident, and boy does it go on a journey. Eventually there is a car. For days after the Super Bowl, I am convinced that this was a Viagra ad, only to be eventually corrected by Gawker Editor-In-Chief Max Read who, at that point, (fairly) doubted my commitment to this project.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
Cars make my boner work? I don't know.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
Torchinsky: This Fiat 500x is based on the same basic platform as the Jeep Renegade in the commercial right before it. The Renegade looks a little cooler, a little more fun. I'll just keep the Renegade and do that thing to my neighbor's garden again.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
The Jeep and the Fiat compare car boners.
Mercedes-Benz ®
The Commercial:
A tortoise and hare race. The tortoise is much slower than the hare, of course. Rather than lose the race with his morality in tact, he gets in a Mercedes and wins by cheating.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
Suddenly, every contest I have failed, every game I have lost, I start to win, so long as I am driving my car and also cheating.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
Torchinsky: Mercedes builds the AMG GT S next to an enchanted forest? I had no idea. This car is pretty fast and fun. I'll run over all kinds of rabbits and turtles in this fucker.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
I, Kelly, would rather not watch a commercial in which rabbits and turtles get run over. :-(
The Voice
The Commercial:
In a dystopian future, Adam Levin and Blake Shelton enter some sort of someplace. Eventually, Christina Aguilera says, "Hey, boys! You're both late for the party. My party." What? Then Pharrell drops down from the ceiling. OK. They're on The Voice now.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
I believe that musical celebrities care very much about getting singers on "their team" for this, I suppose, contest, even though it seems incredibly disingenuous.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
I did not watch it??
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
Truthfully N/A but I would also suggest getting an easier-to-believe conceit for your reality show.
The Blacklist
The Commercial:
These commercials make me so mad. I hate seeing them on television and I especially hate seeing them in the subway. This hat motherfucker. At least the commercial that aired during the Super Bowl, advertising the episode that aired directly after the Super Bowl, was short—15 seconds long. (I imagine there was more than one, but I'm speaking now about the commercial I re-watched for the sake of this miserable project.) James Spader is his infuriating character throughout the 15 seconds. Ron Pearlman is in this episode.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
I imagine myself, angry, watching a terrible show.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
This, more than any of the other hour-long dramas I had to watch for this project, made me think about how silly it must feel—or at least how silly it should feel, in a perfect world, where people feel the feelings they deserve to feel—to be an adult actor on a show like The Blacklist. There is a lot of James Spader cocksuredness. "Oh, Prison Guard, you should listen to the thing that I'm saying and make this phone call, even though I am the one you are guarding. Oh, you're not going to? ...OK, your funeral. I'll be fine, because I know something you don't." Or whatever. It stinks. Also: It's an hour long.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
Commercial does not show up on my television or during my commute.
The Slap
The Commercial:
Zachary Quinto slaps a kid.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
Zachary Quinto slaps a kid.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
Zachary Quinto slaps a kid.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
None, it's perfect.
Allegiance
The Commercial:
The one thing that sticks out about this commercial is the fact that it features Max Medina, Rory's ex-English teacher and Lorelai's ex-fiancé from Gilmore Girls. So nice to see you again, Max Medina. I'm sorry about how Lorelai treated you at the end of your relationship—then again, you did get engaged rather quickly, and, if I can be honest, I never thought you were that great. (And you're basically my type!) ("Smart.") I think it's for the best that you broke up. She would have always carried torches for both Luke and Chris anyway, and I think you know that.
Life With the Product (Imagined, Based on the Commercial):
Max Medina, emotionally destroyed after being left mere days before his wedding, is doing something with spies now or, I don't know, the government.
Life With the Product (Real, Based on Consumption):
Before we get to that, let's take a moment.
Here we are, at the end of our Super Bowl commercial product testing journey. Tell me the truth: Did you skip to the end? Did you skip to the end, hoping to find some sort of purpose—some bit of reflection?
"After consuming the snacks, trying on the bras, making a website, attending a Weight Watchers meeting, and receiving countless calls from insurance agents, I realized one thing: Super Bowl commercials and the products they advertise are—etc., etc."
No. I'm sorry, friend—I really am. All we've got here, in our last moments together, is a brief description of the first episode of Allegiance, the final television show I had to watch in accordance with the terms of this project. That's life. And, you know, maybe that's what I learned while attempting to complete this project. That no matter how much—just kidding. Here we go:
Two former Russian spies—or, at least, one former Russian spy and her husband, Max Medina, who might also have been a spy?—are asked by their former spymaster to force their son, now a CIA analyst, to become a Russian spy. They would rather not, so, instead, to appease their spymaster, they bug his car and phone. He catches onto them and asks them to tell him the truth. It's almost like what I imagine he Americansto be, having never seen that show.
The CIA analyst son is smart and always somewhat confused that other people aren't as smart, in the way that all smart people on television are. "Oh, you don't remember the exact amount of pages in documents and all facts contained therein after reading them very quickly? This does not compute to me, a smart person—my head is cocked to the side in confusion, like a dog's."
This is a super stupid bad show, but often in a way that is entertaining. Would I watch it again? Of course not. It took an hour.
Suggested Improvements to the Commercial Based on Real-Life Experience:
The television show is Gilmore Girls rather than Allegiance.
Super Bowl Product Testing Tally
- Total cost of Super Bowl commercial products purchased: $316.94
- Products tested: 27
- Products not tested, though not for lack of trying, except in the case of Wix: 4
- Websites built: 1
- Websites not built: Another
- Cars purchased: 0
- Cars not purchased, rudely: 9
- Average temperature in New York City for the month of February 2015, the coldest February New York City has seen in 81 years: 24 degrees
[ Art by Jim Cooke, images by Kelly Conaboy]
