If you’ve caught a game recently on TV, you’ve almost certainly seen this Visa ad featuring The Never Miss A Super Bowl Club. Not only is it another dumb predatory promotion intended at duping people into mounting large amounts of debt with a promise of a lame award no one needs or probably even wants all that much, but its commercial features an annoying collective of misguided codgers who for whatever reason decided paying out the ass to go watch the Super Bowl live regardless of who’s playing is a lifelong endeavor.

Of course the spot is also narrated by Morgan Freeman because the association of old people and dementia quests automatically calls to mind The Bucket List, which I never saw, but surely is a movie to be commended for inspiring a handful of septuagenarians to kill themselves mountain climbing and other things old people shouldn’t be doing. Hoarding ribbon candy is what God intended for you shriveled old prunes. Embrace it.

Poking around on YouTube, I noticed that there are brief video vignettes of each of the members posted.

Don’s a boring old obsessive who sired a massive collection of Super Bowl ass pads in lieu of children. All told, that’s probably a smart call. Good on him.

Larry is certifiably insane. Not only is he of the opinion that the crowd at a Super Bowl is possessed of mental powers but he doesn’t know the difference between telepathy and telekinesis. Telepathy doesn’t make a ball go anywhere, you doof. If the crowd had telepathy, they’d have known Sean Payton was going to try an onside kick by reading his thoughts. That would have caused all the Fat Hump fans to shout it out beforehand, but then that would also require them removing the four corndogs from their gaping maws as well.

Bob’s cool. He goes because he likes to cuss out players and can’t do that at home. That’s the kind of undisguised bitterness I like to see out of old folks.

Tom is the group’s charming retard with a failing heart of gold. I really hope the story of him pulling out IVs and escaping the hospital the morning of the Super Bowl is true. Because that means the security in Miami let in a guy wearing a hospital gown. Which kind of makes sense. Hard to conceal a weapon in there.

Anyway, your Meast for Week 12 is Dwayne Bowe, who has at least 100 receiving yards and two touchdown receptions in his past three games. He had 170 yards and three touchdowns in the Chiefs’ rout over the Seahawks on Sunday. We also considered Malcolm Jenkins, for his game-saving strip of Roy Williams, Peyton Hillis and Kyle Williams. We felt we had to recognize the superhuman stretch of production that Bowe has put together. We’d also like to see if giving a receiver the Meast causes him to drop a game-winning touchdown the following week. Science must not be deterred.

Your Least for Week 12 was Steve Johnson. Any other week and this would have been an incredibly easy choice but there was an especially crowded Least field in Week 12. Alphonso Smith, Roy Williams and Reggie Bush each made for compelling candidates before last Thursday’s action was even over. Then on Sunday, Peyton Manning flamed out hilariously. Perry Riley nullified a game-winning kickoff return for the Redskins with a stupid and unnecessary block in the back penalty. Throw in the fact that Kogod started apologizing for him and we really wanted to give it to Riley. Then there was Derek Anderson’s shitastic showing and postgame meltdown on Monday night. Just an incredibly loaded crop of Least candidates. But really, it couldn’t not be Johnson. Five drops overall. Dropping a game-winning wide open touchdown in the end zone. Blaming God. Going by “Stevie.” That’s redefining what it is to be Leasty.