Feb. 6, 2012 at 7:40 AM ET
By Lindy West, msnbc.com contributor
Did you guys see the same Super Bowl ads I did? Well? Are you freaking out? The end is obviously hella nigh! Are you totally barricading right now? Because, seriously, WHOEVER ISN’T BARRICADING RIGHT NOW BETTER GET IT TOGETHER ALREADY.
The powers that be would have you believe that the behavior modeled in this year’s advertisements is “cute” or “funny” or “harmless,” but do not be fooled! If that collection of Super Bowl ads wasn’t the most base, unapologetic paean to depravity ever to air on network television, then my name’s not Madonna’s Awkwardly Shaky Equilibrium (okay, not technically my name yet, but after the apocalypse we can pick whatever names we want—the nuclear hill mutants are terrible with paperwork).
Not content with simply being like nine hours of padded millionaires running around bumping into each other, this year’s Super Bowl also deigned, via advertising, to instruct us on how to live. And it was dark. Very dark. So dark, in fact, that the world may never be light again. If you can take a break from tinned-meat-stacking duty for one minute, then come take a look at how the Super Bowl XLVI ads would have society behave. Also, go kiss your wife WHILE SHE STILL HAS LIPS.
Host a macabre talent show and brutally murder all losing contestants by feeding them to a subterranean rapping cannibal (Pepsi)
In this dystopian vision, Elton John has been elected king and all currency has been replaced with Pepsi. King Elton calls his unlucky subjects into the throne room one by one, forces them to sing and dance for his pleasure, and then, when he tires of their follies, pulls a lever and drops them through a trapdoor into a dungeon where they crunch to the floor as wet sacks of bones and are promptly devoured by Flavor Flav. DO NOT ATTEMPT.
Feed your best friend to a cheetah just for laughs (Hyundai)
A guy feeds his best friend to a cheetah just for laughs. I guess this is what friendship counts for in the end times.
Expose yourself to a female at a party if you think her outfit is too revealing (M&Ms)
A female anthropomorphic brown M&M attends a party, at which several human partygoers accuse her of being naked because her shell (brown) is the same color as her innards (brown). In a moment of classic victim-blaming and public lewdness, the red M&M sheds his shell-clothing and waggles his nude candy-parts right in her face.
Find global warming adorable (Coca-Cola)
Oh, look! Polar bears debasing themselves in the name of Coca-Cola! Seriously, couldn’t we have a little more respect for polar bears, seeing as we’re currently systematically murdering them? And ourselves? WAIT, I’M THIRSTY.
Callously abandon your friend dave to the flames and choking blood-rains of the apocalypse because he drives a kind of car you don’t like (Chevy)
Apparently, after the apocalypse, only complete jerks will remain to repopulate the earth. In this commercial, a bunch of smug Chevy drivers stand around eating Twinkies in a blasted wasteland. “Where’s Dave?” “Dave didn’t make it. Dave didn’t drive the longest lasting, most dependable truck on the road. Dave drove a Ford.” YOU GUYS, DAVE IS DEAD RIGHT NOW. COULD YOU AT LEAST PRETEND TO BE UPSET?
Become an accessory to murder in the name of snacks (Doritos)
So this creepy sociopath Great Dane commits cat-murder and then buys his owner’s silence with a snack-size bag of Doritos. I’m sorry — are human men having this much trouble locating and affording their own Doritos? They have to collude with dog-murderers? And it’s not even for a full-size bag? Disgusting.
Train children to urinate in the water supply (TaxACT.com)
Allow a perfectly cute dog to do the moonwalk (Skechers)
This was a completely adorable French Bulldog situation until Mr. Quiggly started to dance. For shame.
Shoot a baby out of a slingshot (Doritos)
Out of ammunition in your turf war with the toxic mutants? Why not try a HUMAN BABY!?!! (Wait, don’t — it’s just what they want. Human babies are their food.)
Adopt an abused dog and force it to be your slave (Budweiser)
Mark my words, Super Bowl ads: One day the dogs will rise up and then WE will become the slaves! All of humanity shall reap the darkness that you sow. Now, if you need me, I’ll be down here in my bunker stockpiling pemmican and working on my system for converting urine into potable drinking water (can anyone spare any urine barrels?). Don’t bother knocking. I won’t answer.
Lindy West is a freelance writer based in Los Angeles covering film, television, and pop culture.