It sucks to be a man. Women make them shop for undies and smell candles, and their bosses make them sit in boring meetings and do all kinds of stuff they hate. Given the chance, a man would trade his wife for a good set of tires so he can drive over the speed limit to somewhere that has snacks and beer. In fact, in the face of doom, the only thing that can save the world is beer. And animals love cars as much as men do. And women love babies, Paris, and book clubs. And men hate being around women -- unless those women have beer. And Hollywood only produces remakes or movies based on videogames. Men love videogames, especially if they are violent.

This is the overarching narrative of Sunday's Super Bowl ads. If you believe that the people shelling out millions for these spots have done their research and targeted the audience well, this is the country we live in: Men feel castrated by modern society and are on their way to fatal obesity and a 12-step program -- alone in a speeding car.

After the jump is a breakdown of the ads that aired during the Super Bowl, which attracted an estimated 106.5 million people. That makes it the most watched television in history. Sorry "M*A*S*H." Football is the new king.

How did they get so cheesy? I've ALWAYS wondered about this. Same with Double Stuf Oreos: how did they get so much Stuf in between two delicious chocolate wafers? I bet that was a mistake in the Oreo factory, too! Maybe the Stuf machine got overloaded and started exploding Stuf everywhere. And then Nabisco realized that you can never have too much delicious Stuf (except for those poor Oreo-makers who met sugary Stuf deaths during the malfunction). And maybe Pepperoni Pizza Combos (oven-baked pretzels with a spicy cheese pizza filling) came about when some some extra spice got spilled into the Nacho Cheese Combos (oven-baked pretzels with zesty nacho cheese filling). Too far?

Moral of the story: maybe -- just maybe -- the best snacks are just accidents! It must be fate, in its purest, most delicious form.

And now, the grade-school field trip you never got to take (so many slate quarries, so little time). Welcome to the place where they make the chips. And the pretzels. And the Goldfish crackers, with their mischevious little smiles. They're cheerfully riding the assembly line straight to your stomach.