1. Super Bowl Pre-Game Show Brainstorming Session.

Director.  Let's get this moving, we have less than a month to submit a working idea.  I'm going to set some ground rules here.  If anyone says the phrases "Wacko Jacko", "wardrobe malfunction" "nipplegate", "boobgate", "Watergate", or anything else that ends in "-gate", I'm going to -- see this brick?  I'm going to throw this brick at your face as hard as I can.

Creative Associate #1.  We've got to do something relevant.  What happened in the last year?

Creative Associate #2.  September 11th.

Director.  No way, that was like three years ago...[leafs through calendar] Holy shit, you're right!  All right, let's do that.

Creative Associate #2.  Maybe we could get U2 to come back and finish the show.  Remember last time?  They had that banner with all the 9/11 victims projected onto it, and they sort of stopped at the Cs.

Creative Associate #3.  Talk about a wardrobe malf- WHACK -- *gurgle*

Director.  Swear to God.  You think I'm fucking around, I'm not.  Someone call an ambulance or hearse or something.

Creative Associate #1.  Hmm.  Who died this year?  Boris Yeltsin?  Art Monk?  Anybody?

Creative Associate #4.  Jim did.  Hey Jim, you dead?

Creative Associate #3.  *gurgle*

Creative Associate #2.  Ray Charles!  He died, right?

Creative Associate #3.  Bingo.  Ray Fucking Charles. 

Director.  Okay.  Okay, this is good.  Free association time.  Say out loud whatever comes to you when you think of a Ray Charles-themed pregame show.

Creative Associate #4.  Blind people!

Creative Associate #5.  Piano!

Creative Associate #1.  Piano!

Creative Associate #2.  Blind people!

Creative Associate #4.  Piano!

Creative Associate #1.  Blind people!

Creative Associate #5.  Piano!

Creative Associate #1.  Piano!

Creative Associate #2.  Piano!

Creative Associate #4.  Blind people!

Creative Associate #2.  Blind people!

Creative Associate #5.  Piano!

Creative Associate #1.  Piano!

Creative Associate #2.  Blind people!

Creative Associate #4.  Piano!

Creative Associate #5.  Piano!

Creative Associate #1.  Piano!

Creative Associate #2.  Piano!

Creative Associate #4.  Blind people!

Creative Associate #1.  Blind people!

Creative Associate #5.  Piano!

Creative Associate #1.  Piano!

Creative Associate #4.  Piano!

Creative Associate #2.  Blind people!

Director.  All right.  Blind kids singing a Ray Charles song on a giant piano!  Eh?  Eh? 

Creative Associate #1.  Rad!

Director.  Let's think:  Advantages/disadvantages of a pregame show featuring blind kids singing on a piano.

Creative Associate #2.  Disadvantage:  Blind kids look weird.  They have dumb haircuts.

Creative Associate #5.  Disadvantage: It might not be the best idea to place the fate of one of the most-watched visual experiences in human history in the hands of kids who cannot see.

Creative Associate #1.  Disadvantage: The frequency emitted when millions of wise-cracking Super Bowl partygoers simultaneously quip that the opposing team's quarterback's vision is of questionable quality and that perhaps one of those kids would be better suited to quarterback the team could potentially contribute to a massive sonic boom which would disrupt satellite feeds and basic communications networks.

Creative Associate #4.  Advantage: We wouldn't have to put together a real stage piano.  We could just curve it around to save space and effort, and the kids would never be able to tell.  Here, let me sketch it out.

Director.  We have a winner!

Creative Associate #1.  That's just mean.

2. Pat Summerall In Winter.

He grasped his microphone, speaking to nobody with great urgency about something he could not remember.  He knew he was outside a football stadium, and perhaps the Super Bowl, but was not entirely sure about anything else.  It came and went for him.  Sometimes he could recall that he hid his emergency key underneath the flower pot, sometimes he picked up the flower pot and hurled it through a window so he could crawl inside.  Sometimes he could recall which cereal he ate for breakfast.  This morning he woke up and stumbled into the bathroom, and an instant later it was night, and he was standing outside in a suit, and his microphone was not plugged in.

And even if it were, nobody could really decipher what he was saying.  His words and gestures were put forth with great aplomb, but the ideas just weren't presenting themselves.  The viewer felt simultaneously cruel for watching him in this state and desperate to understand him.  Those lucky enough to catch the glint in his eye, though, knew exactly what he was trying to say.

I was the voice you heard when you were five and you ran up to your dad to show him the robot you made out of Legos.  He smiled, and put you on his lap, and pointed toward the screen.  Never again did you hear the name Joe Montana spoken by any voice other than mine.

I was the voice you heard when you were eleven and your team lost the conference championship, and you had no tears to cry because you were hollow inside.  I told you it was certainly a valiant effort, and that they could return home and hang their heads high because they fought like warriors.

I was the voice you heard when you were fifteen and you ran Dorsey Levens up the middle for a four-yard gain.  Every time.  A, A, C-Right, Start.  HB Draw.  Your money play.  And every time, I said "Number Twenty...FIVE.  For a FOUR. yard gain." 

I'll now stand before you, and you may laugh, or stare, or judge.  I'm only doing what I've always done, what you've always been there for.  Which you loved.  I'll stand before you and tell you about the football game and try to be there for you, because it's all I know how to do, and it's all I want to do.  Please, kind viewer, hear me.  I'll soon be gone from you.

3.

"Hey, man.  I'm Cedric the Entertainer, and I'm just hangin' out talkin' bout myself and the nagging by women thereof, and --

-- hey, what's that?"

AAAAAAAAAAHHHH

4. The stream of consciousness of the Super Bowl Halftime Show viewer.

nipplegate! 

nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate! 

nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!

 nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate! 

nipplegate!  nipplegate!  nipplegate! 

nipplegate! 

hey guess what?

what?

nipplegate! 

hey guess what else?

what?

nipplegate! 

oh yeah guess what i found out?

what?

nipplegate!

okay for real this time, guess what?

what?

nipplegate!

hey what do you call the entrance to an underdeveloped South Asian Hindu kingdom?

what?

nepalgate!

hey what do you call it when you walk funny because you just got done riding a female breast?

what?

nipplegait!

hey what do you call it when Richard Nixon bashes a European in the crotch?

what?

kneepolegate!

hey what do you

*snore*

5. The Getting Hurt Bowl.

Oh Jesus, I'm sorry.  I didn't see you there.

Are you okay?

Yes.

What happened, did you fall?

No, I'm fine.  Please leave me alone.

You've been drinking.

I haven't been drinking.

Why are you lying in the middle of the Super Bowl? 
You could have broken my neck!

Look...what's wrong?  Here, let me help you up.

Don't touch me!

Is he hurt?

No, please, all of you, leave me alone.

He must be mad.

I'm not mad.  Just leave me alone.

Why are you lying down?  Why won't you tell me what's wrong?

Look I can't tell you...it wouldn't be right.

He must be mad. --Oh look Referee!

Referee!

Are you all right?

I'm fine.  Please, will you just let me lie here.

I'm afraid I can't let you do that sir.

Don't touch me!

Just tell me why you're lying here.  Tell me!

You don't want to know, please believe me.

You don't think there's any point right?  What, that you're all going to lose the Super Bowl?  Is that it?  Is that why you're lying here?

No.

Tell us!  Tell us for Christ's sakes!

You want to know why I'm lying here?

Yes!

You really want to know?

Yes I'll tell you.  I'll tell you why I'm lying here.
But God forgive me...and God help us all...
...because you don't know what you ask of me.

Tell us!

(inaudible)