Tom Brady and his wife Gisele Bundchen. Photo: Julian Mackler/BFAnyc.com
The Super Bowl may be over but we’re certainly not through with talking about Tom Brady. After winning four Super Bowls for the Patriots and gaining the title Super Bowl MVP three times, it is easy to dub Brady not just an athlete but an American super hero. He’s got the super model wife Gisele Bundchen, a collection of Super Bowl rings, and three loving children, so the last thing he apparently needs is a new truck. A 2015 Chevrolet Colorado to be exact.
The truck: pictured above is a similar truck to the one given to Brady. The truck appeared in one of Chevy’s incredibly sexist Super Bowl commercials. An ad that can coast upwards of $4 million. Photo: Youtube/Chevrolet.
When you’re named MVP, it seems free pick up trucks just fall into your hands! In fact, Chevy gifted one to Brady for his MVP status. Brady is of course too busy with the Audis and the Bentleys of the world to consider adding the gas guzzling truck to his and Gisele’s motorized roster. He’s giving it away.
The solution? Pass that truck along to Patriot’s player Malcolm Butler. Butler is the undrafted rookie who put his name on the map when he made the most buzzed about interception of the night at the first yard line helping with the New England Patriot’s victory. During a radio interview on Tuesday Brady insisted he’d love to slip the truck to Malcolm, stating his play during Sunday night’s game was nothing short of “incredible.”
Truck or no truck, Tom and Gisele look hot hand-in-hand. Photo: Billy Farrell/BFAnyc.com
This Sunday there will be a lot of scoring, big plays, and large men rolling around. What am I talking about? Sex trafficking associated with the Super Bowl. For some, the Super Bowl is about the halftime show and those funny TV commercials with talking babies and crazy celebrities. To others, the Super Bowl is the single largest sex trafficking event in the world.
There are a lot of men, lots of money, and plenty of alcohol – thus the rise in the demand for prostitution. It’s as American as it gets! football, banging hookers, and a 12-pack of Coors Light. The number of online ads soliciting sex in New York jumped by 50% last weekend and is expected to jump by 75% this weekend. Want a crazy stat? Major sporting events are a prime venue for sex trafficking, and America’s football finale is no exception. According to the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children, more than 10,000 women and girls were trafficked to Miami for the 2010 championship game.
Danielle Douglas, a speaker and advocate who identifies herself as a sex-trafficking survivor, said any major sporting event attracts sex traffickers looking to make money.
“The Super Bowl is a huge, huge arena for sex trafficking,” Douglas said. Some visitors “are coming to the Super Bowl not even to watch football — they are coming to the Super Bowl to have sex with women, and/or men or children.”
Let’s not end on a downer, because the Super Bowl is all about America and American values. (That’s why a Janet Jackson costume malfunction/nipple slip will NEVER be tolerated on our shores.) The Super Bowl is also the day where more women are victims of domestic violence (“MAKE ME A CHICKEN POT PIE, BITCH!”), traffic accidents spike, people eat themselves sick, drink until their bladders are too full to urinate, and gag and choke on aluminum beer can tabs. (IT HAPPENS MORE THAN YOU THINK!) Just keep all that in mind when you’re watching that funny Super Bowl commercial with a funny talking baby doing something funny-talking-baby-ish.
It turned out to be a birth week instead of a birthday. There were two planned events and two surprises and I have had more pieces of cake and Beau Joie Champagne than I can count on my fingers, toes, and other body parts. Tomorrow I will take a rare venture out of town – a car trip to the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art. MASS MoCA (as it is known) is genius. I will not be watching the Super Bowl this weekend since I don’t care a lick, but if I was I would surely go to Brooklyn Bowl or maybe The Brooklyn Star. The word "Brooklyn" is key. Manhattan will not see me again until Monday. You see, I legitimately got a little older yesterday and I am feeling it.
This attitude will prevent me from attending some wonderful events. First on my list of "I wish I coulds" is this Sunday’s (10pm) fabulous Faceboyz Follies at the Bowery Poetry Club. It stars St.Rev.Jen Miller, Velocity Chyaldd, Stormy Leather, Amanda Whip, and Payje Flash. Special guests include Ammo O’Day and Zoe Hanson. While many of the others provide a "voluptuous new variety show" featuring "Bold Bawdy Burlesque, Live Chanteurs, Freaky Flickers, and Top Bananas," Zoe will be… "reading/ performing’ my first play of sorts. It’s a short true story about two junkies – one who robbed a bank in the most bungling heist ever and gets away with it. It’s a story that’s soon to be published in an anthology, yet is unnamed. Due to the growing success of it, I’m actually performing with the hilariously brilliant St. Rev. Jen, who’s got such a vast resume it would take forever to list her accomplishments. She has a couple of successful books under her belt and we’ve become fast friends. With her acting as my rather challenged junkie boyfriend at this event full of downtown celebs, this night promises to entertain those wanting a raunchy burlesque comedy night.
Zoe is a star, and everything she does is worth your time. Big recommendation here for the non-football types.
If I was going out, I would absolutely attend The Hot Music Soul Train tribute at subMercer. The recent passing of legendary Don Cornelius should be noted and respected, and his life celebrated. Tonight the wonderous DJ Jennifly will join DJ MOma and ROK1 for a basement bash that will be sexier than I can handle. I’m old.
I am a little bummed by the departure of one of my favorite Blackbook editors, Ben Barna, who will be moving his considerable talents to greener pasture, a desk at another publication. A proper send-off will occur which I, alas, will be unable to attend. I’ll use this space to say my goodbye and good luck and break a leg or whatever he would have prompted me to say if he were still my editor. Some great man said something like every cloud has a silver lining, and as hard as I try, I can’t come up with one…Oh, I guess I won’t have to exchange small talk with his annoying twin brother until I realize it isn’t Ben anymore at Blackbook events. That’s a LOL or whatever you young people say.
Anyone who knows me can attest to my love for Beyoncé, who is the most perfect human on the planet (although I wouldn’t be surprised if she weren’t a human after all and was, in fact, a supreme extraterrestrial being who was put in our midst to demonstrate to us mere mortals what perfection is). I just adore the woman and she makes me happy. Obviously her performance on Sunday at the Super Bowl halftime was fantastic, including a stellar version of “Halo” and a gracious reunion of Destiny’s Child (I mean, she didn’t have to invite Michelle). On top of that, the lady is all about the ladies, as the folks at Flavorwire gladly point out. Beyoncé for President? Beyoncé for Master of the Universe?
Did you watch last night’s Beyoncé concert? I did! And then I went to sleep because, woo boy, watching that halftime show was exhausting! (How about that Michelle, huh? Poor Michelle.) Luckily, I didn’t have to work during the game (meaning, I didn’t have to update this website, because ewww sports), so I knew I wasn’t going to miss anything. It turns out I missed a lot! Thirty-four dramatic minutes of no football! It sounds intense. Luckily, lots of other bloggers put together lists upon lists of the best tweets that happened during the power outage at the Super Dome last night. Here’s the best of the best Twitter list posts for you to check out.
Of course you want to talk about the halftime show. Who doesn’t want to talk about the halftime show? Between the sexist ads and the novelty Twitter accounts about the blackout (just stop it, everyone, stop it right now), the halftime show was probably the best thing to happen all night. And of course we’ll talk about Destiny’s Child and how they should have done "Survivor" or "Say My Name" instead of the extended "Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It)" (which seeing all of them do the dance was pretty great though) and how Shaq singing along to "Halo" was pretty excellent. And if this all was Beyoncé signaling to us mere mortals that her global domination plot is beginning in earnest, then I, for one, welcome our new Beyoncé overlord.
But, for now, I’d like to talk about someone else who was on stage that night. Not Kelly Rowland. Not Michelle Williams. Let’s talk about Bibi McGill. One of the coolest things about Beyoncé’s live show won’t get nearly as much play as the impressive choreography or the light show or the ’90s-kid-Twitter-detonating reunion, and that is The Suga Mamas, Beyoncé’s all-female tour band, with whom she has been touring for years (as NPR’s Ann Powers helpfully pointed out, "not a gimmick").
An all-female backing band may be part of her image and a very deliberate decision, but in an age where women playing rock instruments is still totally novel to a lot of people because most of America and the world is in a dumb time warp about stuff like this and women who are guitarists, drummers, etc. still have to "prove" themselves more than their male counterparts, to have The Suga Mamas on the biggest and most mainstream stage, performing to millions the world over, is really goddamn impressive, even if they were supporting one of the biggest names in music and of course they’d be there.
And leading this pack is Bibi McGill, who in addition to having a pretty incredible stage presence and complementing Our Bey well, can play like nobody’s business. It’s a shame people probably missed her playing because everyone was waiting so attentively to see if Destiny’s Child would show up, because it was boss. There were pyrotechnics. There was shredding. The planets aligned and all was well.
And that’s not all Bibi McGill does. In addition to being Beyoncé’s guitarist, McGill is a yoga instructor and runs her own business. Bib Food Enterprises, LLC, is the producer of Bibi’s Kale Chips, and McGill auctioned off two of the guitars she used while touring with Bey for I Am… Sasha Fierce to fund the production of said kale chips.
Oh, and also to review, this happened:
Let’s see your Super Bowl halftime show try that. Watch the full halftime show below, along with another fantastic performance from Bibi McGill where she wails on "If I Were A Boy" alongside Beyoncé. Perfection.
Super Bowl 47 is behind us, Ray Lewis will take the field nevermore, Beyoncé and Destiny’s Child (briefly) awed, wings were consumed and the field of multimillion-dollar commercials sported a whole lot of mediocre offerings. At their best, the ads will be memes maybe through the rest of the week, at their worst; they were sexist or overly pandering. Taco Bell went with the cliché old-people-gone-wild approach. Dodge will probably get a lot of people talking about the “God Made A Farmer” spot, which, though beautifully done, making a very important point and featuring the beautiful, clear ringing voice of Paul Harvey, felt cheap and pandering at the end when it became about the truck. Also, it’s been done, and not as a car commercial.
And then there was the usual glut of gross, objectifying ads, which it’s sad that I even have to say “usual glut of gross, objectifying ads” in 2013 or at all, including Audi calling assaulting a woman “brave,” Axe Body Spray continuing to corner the douche market and GoDaddy surprising no one. Why do you actively want to pay lots of money to continue to be the absolute worst in front of millions of people, GoDaddy? Why? It is 2013, there have been 47 Super Bowls, ads objectifying women and excusing sexual assault are a part of our collective largest cultural event and an expectation, and advertisers should know better than that. We can do better.
That said, not every Super Bowl commercial was completely terrible. Here are some things people put in their commercials that made them entertaining or effective without being sexist or cheapening an important point. See you next year.
I. Staged fights in unlikely places.
Not much to say about this one other than the Oreo library brawl commercial was the first ad of the whole night that I didn’t flat-out hate. There’s still a place for slapstick, and it’s a pretty typical device for Super Bowl spots, but it worked here.
II. Stars from recently departed or on-their-way-out NBC comedies.
Nothing like watching the soul-crushing circle-jerk of CBS touting their “most watched” status during the breaks thanks to awful, unfunny sitcoms like Two-and-a-Half Men and 2 Broke Girls to make you want to watch the programming of pretty much any other network. Appropriately enough, two of the funniest ads of the night came from stars from NBC’s Thursday night lineup, the first in which National Treasure Amy Poehler made jokes about the word “dongle” for Best Buy and Twitter went crazy because Amy Poehler.
And then, for Americans still mourning the loss of 30 Rock, Tracy Morgan essentially reprised Tracy Jordan / played himself in a brief tribute to American ingenuity for Mio Fit sports drinks. “We didn’t like the shape of our chickens so we made them into nuggets!”
III. Baby pandas in spacesuits.
This Kia Sorrento commercial that responded to “where do babies come from?” was a bit bizarre, but it did have smiling baby pandas in spacesuits, which is certainly an upgrade from those weird E-Trade talking baby commercials that dominated the space for a while. We’re moving up, people.
The Budweiser Clydesdales have become as synonymous with the Super Bowl as the Lombardi trophy and Buffalo wings, so expectations (at least among people who pay attention to advertising things) are pretty high. Like many hyperemotional Super Bowl ads, this one was cheesy and using our emotions to sell us stuff, but it included two of the most wonderful and effective tug-at-the-heartstrings devices: interspecies friendships and “Landslide.” Mostly “Landslide.” For real, you could set one of those terrible Axe body spray commercials to “Landslide” and it would seem like there was actually a soul present in it.
V. Leon Sandcastle.
A lot of the ads about football during a football game were hokey or overdone, but Deion Sanders’ goofy “Leon Sandcastle” spot, wherein the NFL Network lampooned the hype machine it creates, was fun.
VI. Willem Dafoe as Satan.
Like most car commercials throughout the evening, the “Soul” spot for Mercedes-Benz was kind of dumb, but “Sympathy for the Devil” and a smirking Dafoe redeemed it. Someone needs to make a movie wherein Willem Dafoe plays the Devil. He’s already played Jesus. It only makes sense.
1. Go to a mediocre movie that has been out for maybe three weeks and is not up for any Oscars whatsoever. Get two buckets of popcorn: one to eat from, and the other to “make it rain.” Run around the empty theater while pretending the floor is lava. Loudly tell certain characters to shut up whenever they speak. Fart with impunity.
2. Visit a bar with no television. Keep asking the hot bartender if she wouldn’t mind “putting the game on” and chuckling at your own joke. Order a drink so complicated that she has to look it up in a dusty book. While her back is turned, grab as many cocktail napkins as you can. Save them for use as tissues at home.
3. Write a short story about a world in which football does not exist, then shoot it to a leading science fiction publication. Send repeated emails immediately afterward, demanding to immediately know the status of your submission, always with the admonishment “I know you’re not doing anything right now.”
4. Hike a mountain to see nature and civilization alike spread before you in a quilt of life. Take some photographs of it. Tell yourself that everyone else is missing out. Tell yourself that technically you can have nachos whenever you want.
5. Meet a person who, by dint of their also wanting to ignore the Super Bowl, is revealed to be your soul mate. Have passionate, filthy sex. Look sadly out the window at the advancing night and realize this was actually a coupling of mere circumstance. Maybe, a year from now, the time will be right once more.
Hey there, Hon. Geddup off yer couch. It’s time for da Super Bowl! Them Ravens made a great playoff run and now it’s time to figure out where you’re going to watch the big game. Anyone can stay in their own boring living room, but you got to get out there with the real fans. Besides you can’t be chanting "Seven Nation Army" by yourself, can you? Here’s our list of the best bars in B-more to watch the final ride while you’re trying not to vomit from anxiety, overly crack your knuckles, blink too much, squeeze your fists, yell at the plasma screen, etc. Click on over to our latest Top List, appropriately titled Baltimore’s Top Bars to Watch the Super Bowl.