Do you get a facial tic when you see boxers renting the very skin on their backs for cheesy online casino ads?
Do you grind your molars when you see the feared Oakland Raiders play at Network Associates Coliseum?
Do you gnaw on a table leg when you read how the Boston Red Sox just sold ad space on the home run nets atop the Green Monster?
Not me. I want more ads. I want them everywhere. The more the better. If they could find a way to project the Pepsodent logo onto Tiger Woods's pearly whites, I would be delighted.
I used to be like you. I used to curse the fact that ads are taking over every square centimeter of sports. That is, until I read that someday, logos could be genetically imprinted on butterflies.
Schweitzer! There's a rare blue-winged Blockbuster!
That's the day I lost all hope. Like Captain Queeg with the strawberries, I snapped. Now I am insatiable. The sooner all our games are covered in ads, the better. I want ads everywhere, anywhere!
It's not enough that Linford Christie once wore the Puma logo on his contact lenses. Or that Rasheed Wallace considered letting a candy company tattoo its logo on his body. Why can't Kurt Warner shave the Campbell's soup logo into his famous stubble? Why can't Edgerrin James spell out SONY on his gold front teeth?
It's not enough that the networks project ads onto the wall behind home plate. Why can't they put the Target logo in the catcher's glove? The Tidy Bowl man on the dugout water cooler? A Starbucks logo on Joe Torre's plastic foam cup?
It's not enough that bulls in rodeos are now named after products. (Do you realize you can ride Durango Skoal?) We need people named after products. George Foreman named five of his boys George. Couldn't the next few be called Fireman's Fund Foreman?