I have 29 doctors in my family. Twenty six of them are orthopedic surgeons. (Actually, one of them just testifies in workers’ comp claims.) It makes for some riveting Thanksgiving table talk. “Pass me that dark meat,” one of them will say. “No, not that slice…the big piece next to the furcula.”

Just about every Super Bowl the exact same group reconvenes in my den to enjoy The Game. One of the benefits is that no one in my family ever worries about choking on a Buffalo hot wing. Unless, of course, there’s a really big play happening at the same moment. Then you’re outta luck.

What also occurs is that one of my doc relations will invariably question me about a Super Bowl TV spot. “Hey, man, you’re in advertising. Didja do that one?” The one he might be referring to features a llama, brook trout, and a yak dancing naked on the hood of their new convertible import. “Well, Larry, as you may recall, I’m in healthcare advertising,” I say. “Oh, right…so didja do that one?” This is when I offer him another Buffalo hot wing and hope there is a really big play happening at the same moment.

Sure, I’d love to create some SB healthcare ad seen by 108.7 million viewers, 26.1 million of them tweeting why my spot kicked the nacho chip in its furcula. I drool of excessively celebrating in the end zone of my kitchen as my latest spot for acute hypersalivation parades across the screen during the first commercial break.

Yes, that would be the one with the ferret, mandrill, and bull mastiff all dancing naked on the hood of their new convertible import…with Danica Patrick (she would be the one behind the wheel).

My other spot would run smack at the two-minute warning before the half for a new earwax impaction treatment. That would be the one with the wild boar, prairie dog and bison all dancing naked on the hood of their new convertible import. Danica Patrick could be in that one, too, only this time the wild boar is behind the wheel. Yup, Larry, I did that one!

A couple of hours later, The Game will end on a controversial call with my team committing pass interference on the 1-yard line. I will, of course, take solace that 17.8 million Americans with earwax impaction now have some light in the tunnel.

And then, just seconds after the clock expires at the Super Bowl, the game’s MVP will have a thousand mics shoved in his sweaty, eye-blacked face. “Billy Ray Joe Bob, you’ve just run for 367 yards taking the Sea Urchins to their first Championship. What are you going to do next?” “I’m going to Disney World!,” he’ll reply. Somewhere else on the sidelines, another mic will thrust toward a gladiator prone on a stretcher. “Hey, Rhino, you’ve just shredded your medial collateral ligament in six places, one of which is sticking out of your elbow. What are you going to do next?” “I’m going to the Mayo Clinic!” he’ll reply.

The night is always such a gas. Oh, I didn’t mention that commercial.

Chet Moss is chief creative officer, ICC Lowe.