accidental feminist

this post sponsored by jcrew September 24, 2008

The other day, over matzo ball soup at Zaftig’s, I inadvertently stumbled into a game with Bassie while trying to explain corporate sponsorship of ballparks:

Me: You know, like, Wrigley Field, that’s owned by the company that makes Juicy Fruit. They sponsor the field so their name’s on it.

Bassie: So who sponsor’s them?

Me: What?

Bassie: Who sponsor’s Wrigley?

Okay, I’ll bite…

Me: Uh, Sports Illustrated?

Bassie: And who sponsors them?

Me: Uh, Gilette?

Bassie: And who sponsor’s them?

I pause and, I guess, look at her incredulously.

Bassie: In the alternate universal where everything has a sponsor, who sponsors Gilette?

Me: Uh, Jewel-Osco?

Bassie: And who sponsors them?

Me: Wal-mart.

Bassie: And who sponsors Wal-Mart.

Me: Hell.*

You knew that’s where this had to be heading.

Bassie: Okay, who sponsors H-E-L-L?

Me: Wal-mart. It’s a mutual sponsorship.

Look, I had to end it somehow.

*To be fair, there were actually several rounds of this, not all of which ended so neatly; one involved the sponsorship of Fenway Park by Disney, which was in turn sponsored by Converse. Then I got stuck.

Now you try. One suggestion: start small; these tiered sponsorships build faster than that crazy Nintendo game where you roll stuff up into a ball and you start with little cookies and then move to furniture and then houses, and somehow you end up with a ball full of planets. What’s that game called? Damn it, this is killing me!