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By Butch Freedman
That trump fellow, you know, the one whose brain is made of Diet Coke and McDonald’s french fries. Yeah, that one, the clown conspirator, the one with all the make-up on his ravished face. Well, that guy said about Bad Bunny’s half-time show at the Super Bowl (among other racial slurs) that “nobody could understand a word he said.” You see, our president/slime ball doesn’t know about the multiple millions of Spanish speakers that live here. He’d rather ignore that reality, cause then he can keep assaulting and deporting that immigrant community, putting them in cages, like animals—which I guess, he and his flunkies think Spanish speakers are. Yeah, I despise that guy. I admit it.
But, also, here’s the thing about Bunny’s performance, I couldn’t understand a word he was saying also. I’m not a Spanish speaker—though I wish I was. But that didn’t stop me from fully appreciating and mostly understanding the import and joy of his multi-level, super smart, thrilling and joyful show. I mean, the man’s a musical genius. The show was a beautiful spectacle, the singers and dancers, the actors, the sets, the young couple getting real-married. It was a tribute to Puerto Rico and to all the Americas, Bunny ran up all the flags, at the same time his music called out the injustices that affect his people (our people). Trump and his ilk don’t understand, don’t get that Puerto Ricans are also citizens of the U.S. They see Spanish speakers as “other”. Anybody non-white or non-Christian is suspect, is in danger under their evil empire. They will come for all of us eventually, even us old white folks. James Taylor said it best, “They’ll take your soul if you let them, so please, don’t you let them.”
Man, I told myself, I wouldn’t get upset anymore, that no new trumpy disgrace was gonna get to me. But it keeps seeping in despite my efforts — who can ignore or abide racism and hate and blood lust? Is that really what the American dream has become?
Still, my overwhelming feeling after watching Bad Bunny’s performance at the Super Bowl, was one of pure joy—and that’s the part that counts. All the other stuff, the ugliness will eventually go away, leaving behind only a stain on our history and sense of honor. Oh yeah, and the Seahawks won, baby!