The Super Bowl happened on Sunday, but because this is America, you can’t just have a football game anymore without mixing in a healthy dose of feminist outrage, black power ranting, and homosexual propaganda.
A few thoughts on those topics:
1. I’ve never quite understood why so many companies think the best way to sell their product is to deeply disturb their prospective clientele. Weird, creepy advertisements are especially common during the Super Bowl, with this year’s prize obviously going to the Mountain Dew spot featuring a puppy-monkey-baby Frankenstein monster. It was strange, but I guess most Mountain Dew customers are already high on meth anyway, so maybe it made sense to them.
When I saw the Doritos ad I thought it was just another one of these kinds of things — disturbing but also cute, but also terrifying. In the commercial, a pregnant woman is undergoing an ultrasound while her husband stands by and eats Doritos. The baby somehow notices his dad snacking and ejects himself from his mother’s uterus so he can have a chip. End scene. Stupid, crass, but whatever. It didn’t have a deeper meaning, it was just a dumb commercial.
Or so I thought.
Usually I can predict when the pro-abortion satanists will be offended by something innocuous, but even I didn’t see this coming. NARAL — the National Abortion Rights Action League, the largest pro-abortion advocacy organization in the world — blasted the ad on Twitter, claiming that it was “anti-choice” because it “humanized the fetus.” Others joined in the chorus, though some were more preoccupied with the “transphobic” Snickers ad and the “sexist” Hyundai ad.
You can’t ever call the depravity and insanity of abortion enthusiasts “surprising,” but this came close. The anti-science nonsense isn’t particularly notable — insinuating that an unborn human isn’t human, even though, by definition, fetus means “unborn human” — but the immediate, visceral disgust at the sight of a baby in utero is what’s really chilling. This is just more evidence that, when it comes down to it, abortion fans hate children. They really do. And if they don’t hate children, they certainly resent them.
It might not be anything personal against the babies; they just hate or resent what the babies represent. We talked about this last week when Cosmo magazine published an article complaining about the fact that women in Texas are having more babies. They ascertained that the spike in the birthrate has something to do with some minor abortion regulations recently passed in the state, and they might be right. Whatever the reason, it’s demented to express remorse over the existence of children — to lament that Planned Parenthood was not afforded the privilege of executing them — yet these are the kinds of sentiments now shared publicly and unapologetically in mainstream publications.
To abortion lovers, children are grotesque symbols of the enslavement and subjugation of women. Radical pro-abortion militants may claim that they have nothing against women who choose to birth these parasites, but in their weaker moments, when their guard is down and they’ve been sipping a little too much Pinot while monitoring the big game for the faintest suggestion of anything even slightly unfeminist, their true feelings come out. They see a child in an ultrasound portrayed as a child — even in the context of an idiotic Doritos commercial — and they react with revulsion. It’s instinctive. It’s reflexive. Children are offensive to them.
And it makes sense. After all, you can’t really love children if you believe they shouldn’t be “humanized” or treated with the most basic dignity and respect. If you look at a group of people and think, “I ought to have the right to dismember them and throw their carcasses in a dumpster,” you cannot possibly love them. And if you do not love a person — or a category of person — your indifference will inevitably give way to hate. Maybe not always, but sometimes. You will linger between callous disregard and outright animosity, and often the animosity will win. Devotion to child murder warps you in hideous and unimaginable ways, eventually making you blind even to the abounding beauty, purity and joy of childhood.
This reality causes me a lot of grief when I think, especially, about pro-abortion fanatics who also happen to have kids. They would say they love their kids, but they’d also say it would have been completely morally acceptable had they decided to violently “terminate” their kids at any point before they emerged from the birth canal. Can you love your child if you feel so strongly that he was a worthless clump of nothingness only a few short months or years ago? Can you love your child while feeling a brutal, bloody disdain for children generally?
I would imagine you can feel the closest thing to love that your ideology will allow, which is to say, in effect, no you cannot really love anyone, even your kids. And that’s the most disturbing thing of all.
2. Anyway, the Doritos commercial wasn’t supposed to be political. Predictably, the real messaging last night came from the other end of the spectrum. This is the progressive modus operandi: stuff political messaging into everything while accusing everyone else of stuffing political messaging into everything.
Beyonce, an exotic dancer who’s been unconvincingly masquerading as a musical artist for several years, came out during the halftime show with a group of backup dancers dressed as Black Panthers. They twerked angrily (bizarre, angry sexuality seems to be Beyonce’s thing), screamed “negro” and “hot sauce” a few times and capped it off with the black power symbol. The progressive agenda in the performance was not remotely subtle, although, in fairness, it’s hard to say her lyrics had any message whatsoever. As usual, Beyonce’s lyrics were guttural, semi-literate gibberish. Here’s a sample:
..Earned all this money but they never take the country out me
I got a hot sauce in my bag, swag…
I grind ’til I own it
I twirl on them haters
El Camino with the seat low
Sippin’ Cuervo with no chaser
Sometimes I go off, I go off
I go hard, I go hard
Get what’s mine, take what’s mine
I’m a star, I’m a star
Cause I slay, slay
I slay, hey, I slay, okay
I slay, okay, all day, okay
I slay, okay, I slay okay
We gon’ slay, slay
Gon’ slay, okay
We slay, okay
I slay, okay
I slay, okay
This is what a lot of people call art. Incomprehensible ramblings and self-referential boasts combined with an ill-tempered strip tease. That’s Beyonce’s entire catalog.
The fact that this kind of “music” is bitter, narcissistic and violently carnal is almost beside the point. The real problem is that it’s just dumb. Very dumb. And we become dumber ourselves when we spend too much time ingesting it. I’m not saying we all have to sit around listening to Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” (although that is a beautiful piece of music, and it’s one of, like, three Beethoven pieces I know, which is why I used it as an example), but art ought to have some substance. I mean, it should be coherent at a minimum. It should have some beauty, some vision, some reason to exist.
It’s possible that a gifted artist could make a brilliant, meaningful song about “twirling on them haters,” whatever that means, but this isn’t it. This is just ugly and stupid, and it lessens us when we listen to it.
3. The Black Lives Matter interlude was sandwiched within a Coldplay performance that ended with the entire stadium adorned in flowers, lit up with rainbow colors, and hundreds of fans holding placards that read “Believe in Love.” Progressives are having a lot of fun snickering at those of us who were dense enough to think there may have been a political statement buried not-so-deeply under the flower petals and rainbow colors. When you turn an entire football stadium (in San Francisco, by the way) into a rainbow flag, is there any other way to interpret it than “oh, we’re being preached at about gay rights”?
Is it at all fathomable that the halftime producers decided to make “love,” rainbows and flowers into the theme for a football halftime show but it never occurred to them that the whole thing would seem pretty gay?
How did that conversation go?
“Hey, let’s turn the stadium into a rainbow flag with a slogan about love in the middle!”
“Because it will be pretty!”
And that was it? A few silly Christians were the first ones to connect the gay dots?
Yes, Coldplay’s album cover has rainbows on it, but I don’t think “buy Coldplay’s latest record” was the sole point and purpose of the over-the-top flower-power demonstration. The rainbow banner is a symbol now synonymous with the homosexual movement, not Coldplay’s 2015 release. Moreover, early on in the performance the camera panned to a guy on the field waving a gay pride flag. A gay pride flag on the field right before the entire stadium turns into a rainbow, and it’s somehow silly to assume the whole thing was an overt, obvious, incredibly in-your-face gay equality message?
Give me a break. The halftime show was a black liberation-gay rights sermon set to music, nothing more. And those who say “big deal” probably wouldn’t be that dismissive if the stadium was adorned in crosses and crucifixes while a gospel choir sang about Jesus and the audience held up placards reading “One Man One Woman.” If the NFL did something like that, the outrage would be deafening. There would be boycotts and probably acts of terrorism at NFL headquarters in New York. Millions of progressives would file lawsuits claiming emotional trauma. Roger Goodell would be brought up on hate crime charges. The NFL would cease to exist. And we’d never hear the end of it. Seriously, never. They would build a monument somewhere in San Francisco commemorating the tragic event, and for the next 14 decades liberals would make pilgrimages to pay their respects to the millions of people catastrophically offended by what would then be called The Great Anti-Gay Emotional Massacre of 2016.
But instead they give us gay rights and black power, and we’re supposed to just go with the flow. We can’t even notice, let alone say, “Hey, I don’t really approve of that.”
This is our culture’s mantra now: If you don’t have something liberal to say, keep your mouth shut, you bigot.