People said that the end of football season, the demise of our favorite jean-clad quarterback and the decreased visibility of Favre commercials meant the end of the Wrangler Blog.
Wrong.
This ain't your father's Wrangler Blog -- which can be viewed at collegiatetimes.com.
Nope, Wrangler Blog 6.0 returns as a retooled satirical machine.
No more of that crazed drivel about Favre being real comfortable, the American flag, random watering holes, along with off-putting commercials and moments during football games. Now we're diving into the nitty-gritty - off-putting commercials and moments during basketball games.
We make the shift with Howie Long, a man who's transformed from NFL great, to television analyst, to guy who stands around parking lots and harasses people in Chevrolet commercials. In case you haven't seen it, he basically waits out in front of stores and makes pointedly condescending remarks about people who drive non-Chevy pickup trucks.
You half-expect the motorist to turn around and lay down a little piece of his mind. That's before the unsuspecting citizen slumps when realizes, "Oh, great, it's Howie Long."
Just before his victim crawls dejectedly into his front seat, Long will usually throw in one last sneer accompanied with a line like, "Don't forget your 'man' step," regardless of whether the guy was finished packing his groceries.
Despite viewing the commercial about 90 times, I still feel that Howie's long-held grin at the end somehow becomes more arrogant each time. If that's what he was going for, it was a masterful job of acting in a comparative advertisement - so good, it caused my friend to remark, "Wow, that sounds like a truck for environmentally-friendly people, but can I still get one if I'm not a jerk?"
Nonetheless, any Chevy ad is infinitely less irritating when it doesn't involve the jingle "This Is Our Country," by John Selloutcamp. So, thanks Howie Long.
Of course, all of these thoughts would've drifted to the recesses of my brain if it weren't for CBS' magical product. Few televised sporting events rope you into accidentally spending 10 straight hours a day with the tube quite like March Madness.
Not that I don't enjoy every moment before my bracket crashes and burns, but four consecutive days of frontal lobe-numbing action makes the line between reality and hallucination a bit gray.
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