Let it be said once and repeated never again: America has gone bananas bonkers over Taylor Swift + Travis Kelce = TLA, and not bananas bonkers in the best, or most delicious, way. (OMG did you realize both of their first initials, if you add an “and” between them, sound like the abbreviation for a bomb? Coincidence?) Also, is anyone else not here for “Tayvis,” but definitely there for “Traylor?”
As Super Bowl Sunday encroaches, as we train our optical muscles to be ready to peer into one particular $3 million suite in Allegiant Stadium, we might want to consider if we’ve taken our eyes off the proverbial ball in this situation. (Wait: Doesn’t allegiant mean “loyal to the end,” like in true love and patriotism, which Swift and Kelce may or may not share / believe in / be plotting to overthrow?)
Men with dad bods are 10 times more likely to vote, someone once said, maybe.
You know who is most likely to be holding the ball, the real behind-the-scenes potential influencer of the next presidential election? How about someone who literally holds a ball for a living? Not Tay. Not Trav. But Jason Kelce. (Although one highly suspects Kylie Kelce’s in on it too. Don’t put it past 4-year-old Wyatt, either. Girl can snap.)
The psyop under our noses
Forget the climate crisis, ongoing international wars, endless problems in Washington, D.C., 91 felony charges against our former president, or that Usher has just announced a second concert in South Philly. Consider, instead, the Kelces. Our Kelces.
Here’s your scoop, OAN. Put this in your asset, Jesse Watters (curiously also spelled with two Ts). Here’s your next Tweet or X or whatever, Vivek Ramaswamy.
You’re fooling yourself if you think a woman whose cultural impact alone has its own Wikipedia page that’s longer than possibly the U.S. Constitution, which was flagrantly written by Martians, is the real danger in the stadium. The real danger looks way more innocuous, lives in the Philadelphia suburbs, and has only written one song, a Christmas song, and even then, it was really just changing a few lyrics to another band’s song.
The real danger are the clandestine messages the Kelce family has long been sending to impressionable young-to-middle-aged voters just by living their seemingly everyday, wholesome and best lives. Here’s indisputable proof.
Did you ever wonder why, really, Kelce donned a Mummers suit to a Super Bowl victory parade, if not to eventually win over the coveted voting block of string band players? Or why he’s so “affable” and “relatable” and “dad-like” and sometimes “sloppily dressed” as he humbly partakes in the country’s number one podcast? (Men with dad bods are 10 times more likely to vote, someone once said, maybe.) Why else would he keep us Eagles fans on the hook as to whether he’s coming back to play center or retiring next year, if not to keep our eyes on him as he furtively, almost imperceptibly, leaks classified campaign information to his adoring fans and aghast onlookers? Why else would he be People’s 2023 Sexist Man Alive, or one of them?
One highly suspects Kylie Kelce’s in on it too. Don’t put it past 4-year-old Wyatt, either. Girl can snap.
Kelce wants us watching him, because with his every move, be it chugging beer from what I assume was a bowling ball in the frigid Buffalo parking lot outside the AFC Championship game, or, that same day, going shirtless both inside and outside of the suite he shared with Mama Kelc, Kylie, and the world’s money-makingist pop star, he’s making you say to yourself: He’s fun! He parties! I love that guy! I wonder who he’s voting for in November?
Isn’t that exactly what a psyop, a master manipulator, would want you to think? I mean, if you’re not basing your vote on the guy who shotgunned a beer at the Bank before embracing the Phanatic before a Phils playoff game, who else would you seek out for political guidance?
Stealthy Kelce
Kelce’s so stealthy, you almost don’t notice it. (Kelce and stealthy kinda rhyme, also.) But then, there are those moments that seem unimportant but are really meant to lure you into his web of political intrigue. Example: When J.K. sauntered into that hotel lobby in Orlando, those flip-flops he always wears suddenly made sense. Or when he brought his girls onto the Pro Bowl field and intro’d them to a female flag football player, and you kinda were like: Jason Kelce, he’s just like me. You, my friend, were falling under the Kelce spell-c.
Further evidence: The Kelces, in defiance of all things DeSantis, post-Pro Bowl strolled through Disney World, where Donna K. took a starring turn on the teacups (Elliotte joined; Wyatt demurred), then Jas and Mom hit up the Seven Dwarfs Mine Train. You were like: Hey, maybe I like Disney too. Maybe I’m a Disney voter. You wouldn’t be the first to vote for Mickey Mouse for President. And that’s just what #62 would want you to do.
(BTW: Did you know Country Living, the rustic interior design magazine, published an entire article about the significance of Kelce’s jersey number — and that the significance was that 62 was the number assigned to him? The media. They’ll do anything for clicks, amIright?)
Kylie Kelce, master accomplice
Then, there’s the seemingly innocuous, truth-telling, field hockey-playing, spectacularly cheekboned, perfectly Philly accented spouse of his, whom Taylor is obviously intently focused on cultivating in her BFF farm. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Kylie Kelce of Narberth becomes the sporty spokesmodel for Dove and something called “girls’ sports.” (Simultaneously, Philly rapper Tierra Whack drops a single that happens to reveal the moisturizing soap is also her favorite … Coincidence or creative plot to make you fill out a circle on a mail-in ballot?)
You can’t deny that the commercial the Kelces did for Pottery Barn Kids, where they praised the shelter store for helping reorganize their playroom, was some kind of nefarious plot. After all, if Amazon’s Kelce documentary taught us anything, it was that the Kelce family home is never that neat.
(Shoutout to my boss Larry, who produced Kelce or something, and let me take this opportunity to offer the highest of praise for the stunning depiction of a man and his family and football and also his brother who plays football for becoming the most-watched documentary on Jeff Bezos’ platform, which happens to be where I just bought some dental floss, because American dental hygiene is vital if the U.S. wants to remain a world power, and teeth are definitely our leading presidential candidates’ best current physical assets, and assets are clearly what the Kelces are, but maybe not the baby because babies are not smart enough yet but, once again, I would put nothing past that Wyatt, who has already demoed some amazing skills at center and, by extension, espionage.)
Back to the commercial: Pottery Barn: Owned by Williams Sonoma. Williams Sonoma: Based in San Francisco. San Francisco: City where CA Governor Gavin Newsome was Mayor. Ed Rendell: former Mayor of Philadelphia who became Governor of PA. Coincidence? Not a chance. Conspiracy? Highly likely.
Suddenly, our Kelces are everywhere. No longer stuck inside the pile of dirty laundry with Jordan Mailatta and Fletcher Cox, the only man in this all-American immediate family has led these unsuspecting women to omnipresence, capturing the zeitgeist, our hearts, and our political leanings. Meanwhile, you dumb-dumbs are obsessed with Travis’ fade, Taylor’s custom football jacket, and the fact that every number related to Super Bowl LVIII adds up to 13.
Don’t. Be. Distracted. Pay attention to what’s really happening.
A final admonition
What’s really happening: These proud swing state residents (Jason grew up in Ohio, which also swings), including an everydad who just happens to be an athletic, cultural, musical, civic, podcast, beer-drinking, bearded, bear of a hero, and a beyond cool mom whom you’d also trust with your own kids, are undeniably, indisputably, indubitably the real psyops in this Super Bowl-time situation.
Mark my words: They’ll be the ones running onto that big ol’ field in Nevada (battleground state!) with a Biden or Trump or Haley or Stein or West or Swoop 2024 flag, and then will likely tag along on Travis Kelce’s Disney trip. Keep your guard up for more overt and covert messages via TikTok, Apple podcasts and billboards. Avoid Dove, unless you like moisturized skin, and then use Dove.
Thank you for reading. Enjoy the game, even though the Birds aren’t playing. I won’t be watching, because I’ll be busy delving into the FairyTale of Philadelphia lyrics for hidden messages and crying about last year’s Super Bowl.
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