Watching the Super Bowl on Sunday evening left me feeling utterly removed from popular culture.
I didn't understand most of the ads. They referred to things, brand names and people I don't know, which left me disoriented -- who is Jonah Hill? Is he a musician? A character on a TV show? Or just a random name?
In fact, it was only when I read about the ads in the newspaper the next day that I learned some of them, like the self-parking car one, were chock-full of "celebrities." You could have fooled me.
One ad I did appreciate was sponsored by an insurance company and illustrated the four types of love -- as outlined by the ancient Greeks. Stands to reason that I would understand it.
I had heard of the half-time performers, Shakira and Jennifer Lopez, and even recognized some of their songs, but only because I'd heard them in aerobics classes at the Y over the years. I had no clue who the rapper who interrupted them was, nor why he was there. Just watching the frenetic dancing made my hamstrings hurt.
It's obvious Dearest Partner and I am no longer in the demographic advertisers are targeting. We've been demoted to invitations to knee and hip pain seminars and AARP membership solicitations.
The Young Relative rolls his eyes at my ignorance (as I would have at his age), but I've reached the point in life where I'm 100% OK not keeping up with pop culture. Unionville is way more interesting, anyway.
No comments:
Post a Comment