Marketers to the Super Bowl audience:

You, yes, you on the couch. We've never met. But we've been working months to show you that we get you.

If you're a guy, you're two-dimensional. You're part-baboon. You have no intellectual interests. You really, really, really like beer. In fact, that and a naked woman (together or separately) are enough to motivate you to do anything. You feel threatened by the fact that women have leveled the playing field and are asking you to be more than a paycheck. We recognize this in overt ways by telling you your best shot at holding on to your masculinity is to drive our car; or in subtle ways, by playing to your ego and casting you in the dominant role in every single commercial.

If you're a woman, you're also two-dimensional. You are annoying. You're not worth addressing with any of the millions of dollars at our disposal. You fit into this event as comic relief -- but don't expect to write or crack the jokes; the laughs will be at your expense. The only way you get to shine is if you're 88 and willing to be tackled to sell a candy bar. Otherwise, your place is in a hot tub, on a massage bed, or passively standing beside your husband as he tries to fight fees with the concierge. We are wholly unconcerned with the fact that we kowtow to the XY chromosomes in the room and flip the bird at you in the process. You'll get over it. You should be used to it by now. And you'll come back to buy our stuff anyway because, honestly, would you expect anything different from us on such a male-centric event? I mean, who do you think you are? Let the boys be boys, and let us make the money how we do. Go back to the hot tub. Oh, and on your way, get us a cold one.