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Super Bowl Sunday

It’s super bowl Sunday here.

A big day for capitalism.

One of the few times,

when we get excited,

about watching

advertisements.


People that don’t normally enjoy

giant men playing a game,

and giving each other brain damage in the process,

tune in.


They like the movie-like ad’s.

They like the halftime show.

They like the connection with a huge population of the country.

They like having something to talk to their coworkers about,

on Monday morning.


Bet’s get placed on the giant men;

tons of money hang in the balance.

Millimetres

and milliseconds

decide who wins money,

and who bet on the losing horse.


The giant men get paid millions,

to play the game of brain-cells

and touchdowns.

Millions are spent on production.

Millions spent on the advertisement.

And for a few hours,

we all watch the exact same thing.

A hive mind is created-

A moment of connection-

A mass psychosis is formed

with those who watch it.


People paint their faces

and drink cheap beer,

as they cheer on the giant men,

that they hope,

win the game of,

millimetres,

milliseconds,

brain Cells,

and touchdowns.


It’s something similar,

to what I imagine,

the pride in your country

used to be like.

But that died a while ago.

These sports are just nationalism,

scaled down.

But hey,

they make some people happy.


I used to play this game.

I used to want to be one of the giant men,

who gets paid millions.

I didn’t get giant.

I broke bones.

I bled.

I didn’t make it past high school

and the dream faded away.


Now I get to watch people live my dream,

while getting drunk,

and binging on junk food.


I suppose there are worse ways to spend a Sunday.



-C.H.


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