Let me just preface this by saying that I aint a racist. I love Mexican food. I love White Men Can’t Jump. And I have seen at least two Jackie Chan movies, both of which were the racially diverse Rush Hour epics. That said, when I sit down to watch my Super Bowl, the most American thing since the invention of the sound that helicopters make, I expect to see a tribute to America. And I am within my right to say that. You can fault me on a lot of things, but you can’t fault me on my freedom.
I believe you all know what I am talking about. Coca Cola is the most American drink that doesn’t have a “P,” a “B,” and an “R” in the title of it, so when I see a Coca Cola commercial, the only foreigners that better be in there are the polar bears, who can’t help being from Alaska, because they’re bears. They have no say in their transportations. Otherwise, if there aint anyone around to draw some computer bears, I want to see Old Glory flyin’, can tabs poppin’, and the smiles on my children’s faces.
Imagine my surprise when I heard our Nation’s Vice Anthem, (I call it that, just in case terrorists manage to burn all the copies of the real National Anthem, in which case we’d start using this one), in a tongue that I couldn’t understand. Being sung, not by Reba and certainly not by Sheryl, but by little kids, who don’t know American music from the swampy hut they were all raised in.
I get that America is a “global melting pot.” But do you know what’s in that pot? A great big helping of Grandma’s beef stew. No pho, and certainly no soupy bean stuff. Look, I don’t care what race you are, but you better start enjoying the taste of beef stew. Beef stew is delicious, you know what I mean, and it aint too hard to fix, as long as you’re willin’ to shoot the cow, and to live in America, you got to be willin’ to shoot the cow.
All that was a metaphor for talkin’ right.
I think that we should re-do the Super Bowl, with everything kept the same (except the Broncos face a team that don’t cheat), and we show the new, updated version of that Coca Cola commercial.
Okay, so we start it by zoomin’ in on the United States flag and then we zoom out to show it draped over the shoulders of Toby Keith, who is strummin’ a guitar, and singing it very, very slowly. And, just so we don’t piss off the folks who want minorities in everything, one by one, little kids from different countries file in, and shake that man’s goddamn hand for bein’ the man that he is.
Now, the NFL and Barack Obama can go over and make whatever (minor) changes that they might feel are necessary. But what we saw Sunday was no Super Bowl. Maybe an El Grande Mucho Passo Bowl, but I didn’t fix hamburgers for one of those. I fired up the grill to see a Super Bowl. And I aint shuttin’ up until I get one.