I Need a Sponsor

I need some sponsors, and I’m open to just about any and all takers.

Everyone seems to be sponsored in America, and there’s no reason for me not to join the game.

A lot of sponsors rely on product placement to hawk their goods, like Coke™ and Ford™ on American Idol. Not to mention all the prominently displayed products you see in movies and television shows these days.

This is nothing new, of course. In the Thirties and Forties, cigarette companies paid the motion picture studios to write women who smoked into the scripts. This is in contrast to smokin’ women.

As I watch the Blackhawks Hockey games (and the exciting Stanley Cup Playoffs) on television, I notice everything has a sponsor from the Stoli Vodka™ Story Line (with Hugh Hefner because he doesn’t have enough money in his old age), to the Pizza Hut™ Intermission Report and the Harris Bank™ Check of the Game, a nice pun. There are also Verizon™ Intermission Reports, Bud Light™ Impact Players, McDonald’s I’m Lovin’ It ™ Spotlight Players, and Bud Light™ Power Plays.

I’m thinking I could have local sponsors. I'd start with my cousin's place: I’d have the Flavor Restaurant Eating the Best Grits in Chicagoland Meal.

How about the Prairie Tire and Auto™ Dog Park Romp with Me, Brando, Lugar and Maggie? That might get me a free oil change every couple of years.

Or the Akamai Art and Glass Supply, Inc., Painting In Oils? Akamai is my very favorite art supply store, located in Port Townsend, Washington.

Perhaps I could perform my Tarpaulin Sky Press Writing Routine every morning.

And when we decorate, I could have the Glenwood Paint and Wallpaper Bill Paints the Bathroom Time. It’s aubergine, by the way, so dark that it looks almost black, but when it was wet it looked like bitter chocolate.

And I’d think about the Homewood Family Liquors Father’s Day Bash.

I wouldn’t forget the St. James Health and Wellness Walk in the Pool to Counteract Bill's Arthritis in HIs Knees. And then I could end up with the Dave the Massage Therapist at St. James Health and Wellness Institute Massage, which I sorely need after painting the bathroom.

As a teacher I never got televised (nor paid as much as a professional athlete). Nor did I ever have a play-by-play announcer reporting a class: “Moser asks a ‘Why’ question. The students pause, and Moser allows thoughtful silence in the classroom. A hand shoots up and the student in the blue sweater hesitantly stumbles through an answer. Moser nods and the student gains confidence. Moser smiles and points to a female student with short brown hair who elaborates. A young man in shorts in the front row presents a different point of view.”

Now’s my chance. If I work my sponsors right, I’ll never have to pay for anything again.

But I won’t count on it.

As always, please feel free to comment below.