Bad Bunny
Bad Bunny
I was looking forward to the half-time performance from Bad Bunny (less so the Superbowl itself). In the event my response was divided: I approved of it politically and personally (many of my best friends are Latin) and I really wanted to like the music more, but Latin music has little appeal for me. Also, I don’t care for rap of any kind (except Walk This Way and Bust a Move). Mind you, I don’t care for the vast majority of contemporary popular music and still less for the music I was first subjected to (Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, Perry Como). It’s the same for most contemporary popular culture—movies, comedy, medical dramas, game shows. I have very restricted tastes. I do like the Bad Bunny phenomenon—his global success, his love of Puerto Rico, etc. I’d rather listen to him than country music any day. I like the vibe, but the music sounds tinny to me. Watching the game itself reminded me of why I don’t follow American football (I don’t follow British football either). Anyway, I thoroughly approve of Mr. Bunny and I wish him well; I wish we could have a talk about music, and I promise to play the drums for him and sing Real Wild Child and Peggy Sue.
I invited over a friend who was a Roman Centurion, Regulus, to watch the Super Bowl; he was into the violence, liked it but wondered and I had no answer: how can you have a sport where nobody dies? What’s the point? How can that be a real sport?
Well, you have to admit there is nothing better than watching Christians get eaten by lions on a Saturday afternoon.