Pepsi Cola Deity Speaks

Second Banana Soft Drink Spews Perishable Philosophy

I was watching the Chiefs lay the wood to the Buffalo Bills, when suddenly Pepsi announced its global philosophy. Pepsi says “Live for today.” Or that’s what the announcer said it says. Pepsi itself doesn’t speak, or hasn’t so far. So far all it’s done is spout meta directives via third parties. But it’s a heck of a step for a carbonated beverage.

On the other hand, I might have been watching the Steelers lay down and die before the awesome might of the predictably sociopathic New England Patriots. The Patriots will paste your momma should she show up to play football against them. They just don’t know how to stop. Not at all like the Pittsburgh Steelers, who stopped a bunch of games ago. At least the Steelers have Pittsburgh to slink back to. Maybe the poor Patriots never halt their tirade of football supremacy because they have no real home: New England being neither a city nor an actual state. You wouldn’t stop what you were doing either if all you had to go back to were a state of mind or some vague coastal coordinates north of New York. You too would pile on points, not panting a moment between victories, even if they are over the Little Sisters of The Poor, Girl Scout Coven Eight, Muppets, the Seven Dwarves, the Three Stooges, Smurfs, the Pittsburgh Steelers or the Buffalo Bills.

Two things immediately hit me. One: why was I watching the Pittsburgh Steelers or Buffalo Bills do anything? No offense to the men on either squad. I’m sure they all have many talents—even at football. Sadly there just aren’t the critical number of folks who are good at football on these squads to merit watching much of their football exploits, no matter who they are playing. These things happen. Someone has to be the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. Why so many teams in the oh so professional National Football League want to be the designated Chicago Cubs of the gridiron set is beyond me. But this year there is no shortage of takers.

Clearly the attraction of watching a bad team play has to be in watching who they are playing. But why? It’s not boxing. I’m not so enamored with being television-present while as one party  beats the crap out of another  that I am willing to sit through such things. Thus I have missed the majority of the careers of the majority of the Heavyweight Champions of the World, including Ali. If the attraction was watching the Kansas City Chiefs (who are fabulously pedestrian in that we-have-a-running-back-and-a-slam-you-silly-defense formula) or the New England Patriots (who are just mad because they are homeless) then why don’t these teams do something interesting like PLAY EACH OTHER.

Shocking idea, I know. But this is the way things work in real football, by which I mean soccer. In soccer, if you suck and suck hard Buffalo Bills/Pittsburgh Steelers style, you get demoted. If you’re killing and leaving bloody scalps behind, Crimson Tide style, you get elevated to the premier division. Thus the Oakland Raiders might have a chance at salvaging their season with a Rose Bowl bid. Or the Oregon Ducks might have a crack at the Super Bowl. Or Buffalo might have a chance at a Grey’s Cup in the CFL. At the very least, Northwestern could unleash their football might  against fit competitors, like Maine Township East. (Go Demons!) But no. Instead, we get staged beatings. Gotta play the schedule. Why? It’s gone on for two months now. We know who sucks. Let the good teams play each other. That would be a much better use of weekends through February.

I think this is what inspired Pepsi to make its first lurch towards becoming a deity. Heck knows little else inspiring was transpiring on the screen. It’s not the first time, even this broadcast, that inanimate objects started proclaiming recorded directives. Just previously the Toyota Corolla was celebrating several decades worth of being indistinguishable from every other small car on the planet. To a disco soundtrack, no less--complete with black and white footage of the original unoriginal model rolling out. Today! Presto! (Cue dude looking like his arms are flapping in the wind.) The Toyota Corrolla still looks like nothing! (Or like everything, including a mailbox.)  Then a voice that sounded like what we once thought computer voices would sound like--before we knew they spoke like post menopausal women on valium--says “Let’s drive somewhere!”

That’s when the second thing dawned on me: that might be the least inviting invitation I have ever received. Just on tone of voice. It had nothing to do with the fact that TOYOTAS ARE CHEAPLY MADE DEATHTRAPS. (Or that Toyota bribed NASA to bury their dismal record of deadly dysfunction, which we have recounted aplenty on this blog.) No. None of that. (Neither Mister Fun, Hil-Gle nor the Wonderblog hold grudges against any blood thirty, God-less, miniature rice eating people.)  In fact, I did not comprehend it as a message from Toyota at all. Rather, I conceived of it as a message from any indistinguishable entity and not necessarily nor sufficiently from an Altima, Passat, Subaru or another four door econobox..

Mind you, I have nothing against directives from indistinguishable entities.  I’m sporting like that. My entire sex life depends on such a predisposition. But had I heard “Enough with the talking, big brain, let’s get nasty now!” in that tone of voice, I would have jumped clear out of my skin.

Needless to say, Toyota’s automated sounding admonition did not inspire me to drive anywhere, except to my local exorcist. (Toby.) Having stated that, may I go on record as largely agreeing with Toyota’s statement, if not its Satanic Clown Car inflection. By all means, if you are driving, please have a destination in mind. It saves wear and tear on the sanity of your fellow drivers.

Having sat through both dismal football and Toyota’s oft repeated video reboot of their crappy car, my expectations for what counts as televised conscious was well lowered. But it did not prepare me. No. Not at all. When Pepsi burst forth with its second hand delivered commandment—conveyed by a voice with authority, much like Moses to the Jews—I was taken aback. And have been living for the moment ever since. Except for that last moment that went past. That moment sucked and I wasn’t quite dwelling in it entirely. This moment is so-so, occupancy wise. The next moment will be… damn. Ok. Getting the hang of it. In a few moments, I will fully dwell.

If there’s more to this Pepsi-god’s edicts, we shall have to wait and see. Hopefully not through too many more football games with the Steelers or Bills, unless that is the point.

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