Faith, Freedom, and Good Bunnies

FOR MONTHS, I’VE tried to understand the outrage over the selection of rapper Bad Bunny as headliner of the Super Bowl LX halftime show. What’s not to like about the Puerto Rican reggaeton star? He’s won three Grammys, boosted Puerto Rico’s economy by at least $400 million with his concert residency, and through his “Good Bunny” foundation annually delivers thousands of Christmas gifts to Puerto Rican children—even though it would be far more on-brand for him to deliver Easter baskets.

Still, after the announcement, conservatives across the country revolted (sent out angry tweets on X, which somehow still exists). They wanted a Christian, American halftime show, not a secular, Puerto Rican halftime show! Soon they learned that every Puerto Rican is a U.S. citizen and that by nearly every metric of religiosity, Puerto Rico ranks as the most Christian jurisdiction of the United States. These facts didn’t assuage their anger.

So, Turning Point USA announced that they would fund an alternative halftime show promoting “faith, freedom, and family.” I haven’t been able to get my hands on the plans, but I have some really good, really plausible recommendations to help this event live into the biblical call to social justice.

Imagine. The show begins with a light shining in the darkness. It’s an LED light, which is aesthetically inferior but upholds the Christian call to creation care. The harsh beam illuminates something beautiful: a flock of doves. They swirl around the venue with the elegance of a well-funded dance ministry, pausing briefly to land synchronized droppings on the admittedly impressive mane of Christian musician Sean Feucht. (Feucht sent multiple requests to perform at the show, but his financial fraud and public health controversies proved to be too damning to the selection committee and, it seems, to the doves.)

The jumbotron plays a slideshow of 21st-century American sins.

As Feucht heads to a gender-neutral restroom to clean up, Amy Grant takes center stage, holding hands with Flamy Grant, the first drag queen to ever top the Christian music charts. In perfect harmony, they perform the confessional ballad “Better Than a Hallelujah”: “The tears of shame for what’s been done / The silence when the words won’t come / Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes.”

Above them, a jumbotron slideshow depicts 21st-century American sins: stills from the Iraq War, images of the BP oil spill and the Dakota Access Pipeline, clips from every sequel of Transformers. This is shaping up to be more haunting and healing than we expected.

Then, in a jarring tone shift, Larry the Cucumber from Veggie Tales takes the stage. He’s ready for his Left Shark moment. “Bob the Tomato wishes he could be here,” Larry explains, “but he didn’t want to miss Bad Bunny’s performance.” Larry launches a catchy, cringey mashup of “Where Is My Hairbrush?” and “Where Is the Love?”

Suddenly, Jeff Bezos, Elon Musk, and Dallas Cowboys owner Jerry Jones approach the stage—on camelback. We’re all worried that they’ll sing “Billionaire” by Bruno Mars, or worse, the Pentatonix version of “We Three Kings.” But instead, something unthinkable happens, something … biblical.

Musk speaks first: “After completing a DOGE audit on our own hearts, minds, and bank accounts, we realized we are not using our funds efficiently—or compassionately.” He hands the mic to a solemn Bezos, who says, “We no longer wish to store up treasures for ourselves on earth.” Jones clears his throat, before adding, “Starting today, the Dallas Cowboys will be known as the Dallas Samaritans.” He pauses for applause, before continuing: “And me and the other repentant rich men up here will be donating our money—all of it—to causes aligned with Christian values. Starting with the Good Bunny Foundation.”