Who still owns a superball?

Not since Elvis left the building has Vegas laid a table so heavy with hyperbole. But it was a party. The show opened with gridiron visuals glued to Paul Anka’s lyrics My Way sung by Old Blue Eyes to the familiar French tune, culminating with Travis Kelce choking back tears as Swifties swooned.

Audra Day lifted spirits in a gospel theme that carried through the weekend. Then came an out-of-this-world trailer for the movie Wicked. At some point military jets flew over the closed dome. For the most part the ads were plodding, subpar, and lend credence to the question from a friend: “Do any of these ads cause you to buy something?”

We waded through geckos and cave dwellers, choked on Doritos and ducked migrant birds dressed as linebackers. One ad turned a mirror on American couch potatoes. And RFK Jr hijacked his uncle’s legacy. The Jesus Gets Us campaign turns refreshingly away from the lure of salvation to the message of service, even though some backers reportedly practice the politics of exclusion.

The VW ad was a Diamond; VW ads always have sparkled. But Kia skated into grandpa’s heart. Uber engaged the timely topic of forgetfulness, while the head Chief remembered how his mom morphed the word superball into the biggest party on the planet. Pfizer blended art and science. And while stunt kickers for cash got groans, the message came through: Stay playful. Somewhere Elvis is indulging in a hunk of burning pizza.

Share this Post

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *