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Super Bowl LVIII is Maximum Strength America and it matters more than ever

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Super Bowl LVIII is the single most important Super Bowl of our lifetimes, and not just because I Googled the roman numerals to find out which edition we were up to. 

In my defense, I’m not the most cultured guy in the room. Ninety-nine percent of the foreign countries I’ve visited were at EPCOT. 

But there’s no doubt this year’s big game in Las Vegas is the biggest in our nation’s history. Sure, that’s the same thing they say about every election but to be clear, this has nothing to do with politics. 

In fact, President Biden is skipping the traditional pregame TV interview — and it’s just as well because he’d probably spend the whole time bashing Donald Trump. That could get old in a hurry, although it would be nice to see Joe talking about a LIVING president for once. 

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This Super Bowl matters most because it’s the last major piece of common culture we have left in these bitterly divided times. Let’s face it, these days the only time you see Republicans and Democrats together is on the Epstein Flight List. The Super Bowl is a three-hour chance for Americans to put our differences aside and do what we do best: pig out. 

We didn’t become the fattest country in the world because we love to fight about politics on Twitter, or X, or whatever dumb name Elon Musk gets stoned and gives it next. No, the reason America looks like a “before model” compared to the rest of the world is we love food and the mindless escapism that comes from mowing it down while we watch TV. 

The Super Bowl is maximum strength THAT and you don’t have to like football to enjoy this particular round of culinary chaos. 

For starters, the commercials will give you a chance to see beloved celebrities from every era, with this year’s lineup expected to include iconic names like Christopher Walken for BMW and Willie Nelson for Bic lighters, along with newer faces like Aubrey Plaza for Mountain Dew and Jelly Roll for Uber Eats. If you’re wondering, there’s no celebrity ad for Alaska Airlines, which is surprising because the competition is blowing their doors off. AHEM.

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On the music front, you’ll have icons in Reba McEntire singing the National Anthem before the game and Usher will break it down during the Halftime Show. And if that weren’t enough, Taylor Swift, the biggest pop star of our time, is expected to perform after the game. But enough about Travis Kelce’s hotel room.

The point I’m trying to make, one rimshot at a time, is that the Super Bowl is Maximum Strength America, the one game of the year that non-football fans watch for the sheer majesty of it all. 

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And in true Vegas fashion, they’ve sweetened the pot and given a giant middle finger to the outrage mob that’s divided us at every turn by featuring a Native American mascot on the most widely viewed television broadcast of the year. Sure, cancel culture whacked the Washington Redskins logo and sent the Cleveland Indians off to that big batters box in the sky, but 130 million viewers are expected to watch the Kansas City Chiefs take the field and there’s nothing the social justice jerks can do to stop it because local tribes have given the team their full blessing. 

For my money, assuming I have any left after a few nights in Vegas, this might be the biggest deal of them all. A reminder that long before social media came along and transformed America from a “Shining City on a Hill” into a “Real Housewives” episode on Bravo, there was a fight free time in this country where football was just a game and life was just a party. 

The Super Bowl is our one night of the year to get back to that era which is why I’m not telling you to watch for the players, the pop stars, or even the pop tarts. 

I’m telling you to tune in for America, and you’re guaranteed a victory. (You can thank me by not telling the wardrobe department how many wings I eat.)

Happy Super Bowl, America. 

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