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As I wrote last week, and as you more than likely viewed with underwhelming delight during Sunday's Super Bowl telecast, Santa Claus aficionado Tim Tebow was featured in a pro-life Super Bowl ad with his mom and her manicure. Outside of the game, cheerleaders, every other dreadful commercial, and the boredom that is Phil Simms and Jim Nance -- it was one of the lowlights of the broadcast.

After all, who doesn't love commercials about the ills of fetus removal?

Tebow, of course, has the right to pray to whatever make-believe deity or 1970s teen idol he chooses (I always liked Lief Garrett and Rick Springfield myself).

But as the Tebow spot requested, I visited the website for the Tim Tebow Foundation and watched this intro video from the Bible-thumpin' southpaw.

Does Timmy need some practice at making teleprompter reading look natural?  You be the judge.



Tim Tebow Foundation from Tim Tebow on Vimeo.

It's safe to say that every major news source and their respective photographers made sure to capture the essence of Peyton Manning's 4th Quarter interception to Tracy Porter.

Schadenfreude, in pictorial montage format.



Sure, go ahead and click on the above photo for a full-scale, desktop version.

Enjoy.

With the resolve of the Saints organization and the city of New Orleans serving as inspiration, Coach Bill Cowher revealed in a passionate speech on CBS' Super Bowl post-game show that, because of his dedication to football over the years, he has ignored his true calling since the mid-1980's.  

After an emotional unveiling of the gold rope chain he has kept in the closet for two decades,  Cowher announced that he is finally going to try to become the third member of the rap group, Eric B. and Rakim. 



When he started chanting "Who dat say dat Coach Cowher can't be a rap star?", the others on the set felt obligated to tell him that Eric B. and Rakim broke up in 1992. 

Needless to say, he was devastated. 

Needless to say, sports headline writers across the nation are VERY pleased that the NFL lifted their efforts to ban/regulate the usage of New Orleans' signature "Who dat?" phrase.  Where is the creativity, fellas?

Can we get a "What A Brees..." or a "Oh Man-ning!!!" or something?  We're a little short on snappiness and token puns this morning, headline writers.  That's on you.

Sports Illustrated --



Fox Sports --



ESPN.com --



AOL Fanhouse --



New York Daily News --



NBC Sports --



And....

A very special "Headliner's Ball" shout-out to Yahoo! Sports for bucking the trend and going with something a little more creative and way snappier. If there are no New Orleans merchandise owners rushing delivery on customized t-shirts with this headline, they're missing one heck of a business proposition.

Yahoo! Sports --

It’s time for the Top 7’s annual look at what your alternates are for this Sunday in case you don’t want to watch the Superbowl.

Counterprogramming is a valued skill for any program director, so it’s key to gear your choices to the people who don’t watch the Superbowl, and since I have no idea who these people are, you’re just going to have to imagine the people who are watching shows like the following instead of the Superbowl.

7.  Sleepless in Seattle, Showtime
Since it's another Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks movie, I can use this opportunity to go on a rant about the movie You've Got Mail.  Is there a worse place in history for Dave Chappelle to be?  Why in holy hell did he agree to be in this movie?  Ever since I saw it, I can't forgive Tom Hanks for being in this heaping pile of crap, or myself for seeing it.  Take someone on the verge of violence and have them watch the opening scene where Meg Ryan bounces around peeking to see if anyone is watching before checking her e-mail, and I guarantee you that it's going to throw them over the edge.

There may be worse movies than this, but at least something like From Justin to Kelly is entertainingly bad.  This movie legitimately makes me angry.

6. World’s Strictest Parents
Somehow I doubt that this particular title lives up to its name unless each episode ends with the parents torturing and murdering their children.  A kid in my childhood neighborhood’s mom used to come outside and blow a whistle when it was time to come in for the evening.

No matter what he was doing—he could have been hitting in the last inning only needing a ground-rule double into the trees to win the game—he would immediately start sprinting off in the direction of his house.  It was one of the more entertaining things I can remember seeing.