Snickers: Apparently Always Looking to Satisfy

Since I wrote about this yesterday and immediately after the Super Bowl Sunday night, I figured I might as well follow up on the outrage over the Snickers "kissing mechanics" ad.

If you haven't heard already, the whole thing is gone. Vanished. Yanked off stage like a bad act at the Apollo. Tossed out like a Snickers bar left on your dashboard during a hot summer day. Gone like it never happened - except we know it did.

I guess I didn't realize just how far Snickers took the joke (or attempt at one) at its website, never bothering to look at the various alternate endings that were offered. Perhaps I'm not quite the judge of funny I thought I was.

▪▪ AMERICAblog has a bunch of suggestions for expressing outrage to Mars, Inc., Snickers' parent company. (Though now that the campaign's been pulled, I imagine the protest has been somewhat dampened.)

▪▪ Here's Deadspin's take on the matter, where I found all this stuff to begin with.

Happy Hour 02/05: Well, I Thought It Was Funny

Last night, I thought the Snickers ad with the two mechanics "accidentally" kissing was the best Super Bowl commercial. (On second thought, however, I think CBS' Letterman/Oprah ad might have been the funniest.) Of course, it's all subjective, but I figured that would've been the most popular, hands-down. Could I have been in the minority?

Kevin posted in the comments that he "HATED" that ad. Over at my personal blog, Fried Rice Thoughts, Susannah said the commercial made her "want to eat a Snickers LESS." USA Today's annual Super Bowl Ad Meter ranked it ninth. (The Budweiser crab ad was #1? Seriously?) Various Bears or Colts winced. And Salon.com's King Kaufman said it was downright homophobic.

Sad that with all the attention being lavished on Tony Dungy of Indianapolis and Lovie Smith of Chicago as the first black head coaches in Super Bowl history, the broadcast of Super Bowl XLI ended up being so homophobic. Progress for one minority at a time, evidently.

Snickers kicked it off in the first quarter with an ad in which two guys are working on a car engine, one busts out a Snickers bar and the other, evidently turned on by the long, hard, caramel-filled ramrod of chocolate flavor, bites on the other end of it. The men work their way toward each other and end up touching lips.

Apparently, the Human Rights Campaign agrees.

I really don't think I'm in any position to judge whether or not the commercial is offensive. If anyone saw it, and either felt offended or somehow persecuted, he or she is obviously entitled to such opinions.

But I thought it was funny, and wasn't so much making fun of or criticizing gay people. It was ridiculing those who might think accidentally kissing might signal latent or repressed tendencies. Or those who would get so freaked out by accidental touching that they suddenly need to prove their manliness. I know quite a few people like that.

Or maybe I'm a bit more sensitive about this, given the occasional reeling reaction I've encountered when a person sees the name of this blog.

Anyway, relax. Have a Coke and a smile. Oh wait, that's a different commercial entirely.

Super Bowl Post-Mortem: Rex sputters, Dungy shines

Was that the most lopsided 12-point victory you've ever seen?

After Devin Hester returned the opening kickoff for a touchdown, before most of us could get our seats warm, were the Bears ever really in that game? Sure, the scoreboard says they were up 14-6 at the end of that sloppy, fumble-rific first quarter. And they were within a touchdown three minutes into the fourth quarter. But it never seemed like the Bears truly had a chance with their offense.

On the rare occasions when Chicago had the ball, they'd put the beginnings of a good drive together, racking up a few first downs with a nice run by Thomas Jones or a catch by Muhsin Muhammad. But then Rex Grossman found a way to #@$% it up. Either he treated the football like it was covered with turkey grease or just chucked the ball aimlessly down the field where two Colts defenders were waiting.

I'm wondering why Ron Turner didn't call more running plays for Jones. The Colts weren't stopping him, and it was the only way the Bears could move the ball down the field. Maybe Turner figured they couldn't win the game without some big plays from his quarterback. But when the guy's doing far more harm than good, don't you have to rethink your strategy?

Remind me again: How exactly did the Bears make it to the Super Bowl with Grossman at quarterback? And if he's sick of answering questions about his inconsistent performances, he should really think about trying to play better. Grossman's probably too young to give up on, but the Bears have to consider how long they can let him hold the rest of the team back.

The Colts were certainly beatable, especially at the beginning, when they looked extremely nervous. But by worrying so much about giving up the big play, the Chicago defense let Indianapolis grind out yardage with tough runs and short throws. And that allowed the offense to control the game once Peyton Manning settled down.

It was almost anti-climactic watching Manning and Tony Dungy accept the Vince Lombardi trophy. The "can't win the big one" talk was hushed after winning the AFC Championship. Finally! They got to the Super Bowl! The rest was affirmation, with quarterback and coach seeming more relieved than jubilant.

I wrote before that I wanted to see Manning win a championship, but as I watched the post-game celebration, I was happiest for Dungy. I'm sure the Vikings were thrilled to have him as defensive coordinator for four years, but he was long overdue for a head coaching job. And maybe he was screwed in Tampa Bay, but it's also possible that he just wasn't quite ready for that championship level yet.

But in Indianapolis, where he could trust that the offense was in good hands, Dungy could work that "Tampa Two" magic on the defense. It took long enough to wonder if he was just one of those guys who was never going to get that trophy. Plenty of other coaches are in that club. Of course, with his status as a coaching vanguard, Dungy may have placed additional pressure on himself. (Or hadn't you heard that he and Lovie Smith were the first two black head coaches in the Super Bowl?) But now, he doesn't have to worry about that anymore. Call it affirmation, call it culmination, call it celebration. The man definitely earned it.

Super Bowl Post-Mortem: I like my football dry

I know we're supposed to love football being played in nasty weather. The sloppier, the better. Real men are forged under conditions that make you squint and wince. It ain't football unless white uniforms are unrecognizable under grass and mud stains.

You know what? I'd rather see two teams do what they do well. If one team's playing like crap, it should be because the other team is making them miserable. Sure, weather is part of the game. But it's not so bad if teams actually get to execute some plays cleanly, is it? Five fumbles in the first quarter is just bad football. It's annoying to watch. There's nothing fun about it. Would you like to go in the shower and let the soap bar slip through your fingers for an hour? No, you'd get sick of squatting down to pick it up.

I'm not advocating every Super Bowl be played in a dome. No way. Of course not. But after bringing us The Wet Bowl, can Miami please be taken out of the holy, sunny trinity of warm weather cities that climate snobs like Bill Simmons put on a pedestal? Enough already. At least you got good football in Detroit.

Super Bowl Post-Mortem: The non-football issues

I love Prince. If I was stuck on a desert island and Purple Rain was the only CD I could listen to, I think I could carve out a decent existence for myself. "Let's Go Crazy" is one of my all-time favorite songs. And I don't think he's ever received enough credit for his blistering guitar shredding on that tune, as well as "When Doves Cry."

But that half-time show was a serious disappointment. And not just because Prince rushed through the thing like an orchestra was about to play him off the stage. There just wasn't enough of his music. "Proud Mary"? "All Along the Watchtower"? "Best of You"? I like the Foo Fighters, but should Prince be singing one of their songs? Shouldn't it be the other way around? And what was that "We Will Rock You" intro?

How about some more Prince? I wasn't expecting "Little Red Corvette" or "Controversy" from a man who's found religion in recent years. But was "1999" or "Kiss" too much to ask for?

And when the hell was it decided that unleashing a group of hundreds onto the field to surround the stage was a key component of Super Bowl half-time performances? What exactly does that add to the show? On TV, you (usually) want to see the performer. And in person, it's just one amorphous mass of people. Never mind that it was dark, and no one could see them, anyway.

But the marching band was a nice touch.

▪▪ It wasn't even close, right? The Snickers ad with the two guys "accidentally" kissing was the best, most "laugh out loud" Super Bowl commercial.

I also liked the Sprint "connectile dysfunction" and Coke "What else haven't I done?" ads. But maybe those both spoke to personal issues I'm currently dealing with.

Happy Hour 2/2: The Obligatory Super Bowl Pick

Okay, it really is that time, isn't it? "The Big Game" is on Sunday. The Super Bowl. Ever heard of it? It's super. (That was a reference to "The Office," in case anyone's wondering if I'm really that dense.)

I haven't partaken into too much of the hype this week. Mostly because each time I've looked at everyone having fun in Miami, it makes me miss having the Super Bowl in Detroit last year. Did we know all the media and celebrities were going somewhere else the following year? No wonder I haven't seen anyone cool hanging out at the Renaissance Center this week.

Anyway, the fridge is already well stocked. And everyone else is making their Friday-before-the-game pick (though Complete Sports did it on Thursday, and you have to dig that about him), so I might as well join in, too.

I surprised myself by realizing after the AFC Championship that I wanted to see Peyton Manning win the Super Bowl. As someone who's kind of disliked the guy ever since Charles Woodson beat him for the Heisman Trophy in 1997, I didn't quite expect that. But it's done. That's how I feel.

Plus, I have a natural regional dislike of all Chicago sports teams. And I've convinced myself that winning the Super Bowl with quarterback play as wildly inconsistent as Rex Grossman's would set the NFL back five years. But I'm sure things would bounce back well before then.

(I also loved The M Zone's basing their rooting interest on the breakdown of past and present Michigan players on each team. That's how I've often done it. Lombardi knows my team won't ever be in the Super Bowl. I'm glad they figured that out for me, so I didn't have to.)

But I'm not just going with my heart. I'm going with my head, too. And it's not even that the Colts might have the better team. No, I think it's all about the Tony Dungy factor. Chicago plays that Tampa Two defense that's all the rage these days (except in Detroit, where we found out that you need players to make the thing work). To paraphrase what Paulie Walnuts said about italians and espresso on the second episode of The Sopranos, he invented this $#!+ and all these other &@#%suckers are gettin' rich off it.

Sure, defense wins championships. But if anyone knows how to beat Chicago's defense, it's going to be Dungy. And he's had two weeks to figure out new ways to beat it. Never mind that the Colts already have an amazing offense.

Indianapolis Colts 23, Chicago Bears 13.

Happy Hour 01/29: What Will Edge Do This Week?

With the explosion of empty calorie hype that is tomorrow's Super Bowl media day, a thought occurred to me over lunch earlier today: How do you think Edgerrin James feels this week?

Why was I thinking of an Arizona Cardinals running back over tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich? Well, I really don't know, other than maybe an article or two about Chicago's arrival in Miami got me thinking about The Big Game. Either that, or maybe the red of the tomato soup got me thinking about the red in the Cardinals' uniforms.

That's something I can think about over tomorrow's lunch, I suppose.

(It's also possible that I was thinking of blood while reading this ludicrous column by USA Today's Jon Saraceno. The '07 Chicago Bears aren't the '85 Bears? Wow, I'm glad he clarified that for me. I was hoping to see The Fridge talking to the media horde tomorrow. Thankfully, someone had the foresight to remind me that I wouldn't. I also realized today that I'm 33 years old, not 11. Holy $#!+, am I that old? I'm totally putting down my G.I. Joe action figures and going out to buy beer and rent a car tonight. Again, I'm thankful for the enlightenment. Am I digressing?)

But this week, Edgerrin James gets to watch his former team play for a championship. That has to make him grind his gold fronts just a bit, especially when he can read plenty of articles about how the Colts took such a brilliant chance in replacing him with the tandem of Joseph Addai and Dominic Rhodes.

He could be getting ready to entertain his old teammates visiting his home state this week. Who would be a better tour guide? Edge went to the "U," after all. He knows South Beach! Would you like another mojito, Peyton?

Or he could be spending some of the $11.5 million signing bonus he received from the Cardinals to somehow distract himself from the anguish he might be experiencing. It can't be a good feeling to watch most of the guys with whom you spent the first seven years of your NFL career getting all the attention that comes with playing in the Super Bowl. And then, of course, there's the adulation that would come with winning the game.

I know sports are full of stories like this, the poor schmoes one year removed from championship glory. Don Mattingly (unofficially) retired before the Yankees won the 1996 World Series. Adrian Dantley was traded to Dallas three months before the Pistons won the 1989 NBA title. Hell, Edge can just talk to his old buddy, Peyton Manning, who watched his Tennessee Volunteers win the national championship the year after he graduated. And those are just the few I can immediately recall from memory.

Maybe I'm kind of a sap, but I feel for these guys. And if the Colts end up winning on Sunday, while they're taking turns hoisting the Vince Lombardi trophy in the air, I'll be thinking about Edgerrin James, and what must be going through his mind.