Few things manage to escape the realm of my judgment. Name a peanut butter brand or a political pundit, and I’ll give you my opinion, along with the oftentimes bogus factors that led me to form it.

Football, however, is one thing that can’t escape the grip of my apathy.

When the Packers played last year, I sat on the couch in ignorance, laughing at my friend’s impression of Troy Polamalu’s grunting through hair tugs. While fans mobbed Wisconsin Avenue later that night, I laid in bed with a book.

But like millions of Americans, I’m drawn in each year by the promise of new commercials.

Rarely are they thought-provoking, clever or enticing. Sexism is common, as is sex, and most themes have been exhausted. But every once in a while, there’s an ad or two that breaks the mold and reminds us why we continue to take these 30-second promotions as seriously as we do.

I watched this year’s game with my parents, so David Beckham’s underwear ad for H&M proved to be slightly more awkward than it would have been had I been with ten of my girlfriends. But as my parents and I sat around the TV, twirling spaghetti on our forks, each of us were momentarily at a loss for words.

“David Beckham has all those tattoos?” my dad finally asked.

Silence.

“$14.95 for underwear?” he continued.

Beautiful male athletes litter the TV every Super Bowl Sunday, and so do beautiful female models. Women often appear as props. But in H&M’s ad, a male athlete was an object, and it’s likely that the 60-some million male viewers were less than grateful for being exposed to a typically female experience: having to stare at a sexualized image that we don’t necessarily want to stare at (also known as Adriana Lima). Little is spoken in this ad, but the message is clear: Buy the underwear from H&M, and you’ll be like David Beckham. The message I got out of it, however, is  sexual objectification is awkward. For everyone.

Beer commercials have historically been marketed exclusively to men. Miller and Budweiser have made millions out of their appeal to the “man-child;” the guy who can say he loves his beer bottle but not his girlfriend, who turns his house into a giant cooler when his wife leaves for the weekend.

This year, the man-child took a backseat when Budweiser aired its “Eternal Optimism” commercial, which had one theme: inclusion. Everyone from prohibition-era couples to 1980s break dancers, of all sizes and colors, sipped Bud from the can in a grand appeal to America’s affinity for nostalgia. It’s taken 46 Super Bowls for a commercial to combine diversity and booze as seamlessly as this ad does.

And then there’s Ferris.

When I watched Matthew Broderick’s “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” satire in this year’s Honda CR-V ad, I was sure the man-child would make a reappearance.

Instead, I saw a graying guy whose dedication to his career and his family is so unwavering (as far as we know) that the concept of playing hooky to ride roller-coasters novel enough for it  its own commercial. In a time when everyone’s twenties are now considered part of their youth, it’s refreshing to see an ad that inspires both maturity and childishness, and reminds us that we can have both.

In this month’s Esquire, Stephen Marche wrote an essay on the sad state of current advertisements. Despite the fact that most commercials are stale as hell, he says, “advertising works. Why do you think Americans are so fat and in debt?”

The Super Bowl proves that, despite being the most popular sport in the country, football comes second to commercials for millions of viewers. Ads aren’t just promotions.

Commercials can do more than just dictate what we think about. They can force the apathetic to care, enchant the disenchanted, make a couple million meatheads think twice about the morality of lingerie models, and, most incredibly, change the way we think. All for only $3.5 million each.