Good Bunny Bad Trump Dept: Super Bowl LX sucked, but Bad Bunny's exuberant "cultural landmine" of a half-time show was fire, a heartfelt, sanguine, unifying "love letter to the American Dream," or what MAGA called an "affront to the Greatness of America" during which they "couldn't understand a word of it" - Spanish! horrors! - and what's up with that? The final, unforgivable sin, proof their sordid culture war's almost done: The scoreboard proclaiming, "The only thing more powerful than hate is love."

Sunday's Super Bowl, held at the Levi’s Stadium in Santa Clara, CA, made it into the ranks of "among the six most boring games ever." But the brouhaha over an all-Spanish show at this historic, ICE afflicted moment by a 31-year-old global superstar and fierce advocate of Puerto Rican independence who dedicated his performance to "all Latinos and Latinas," has loudly urged "ICE out," launched a 57-date world tour that skipped the continental US, paused a European tour to join protests in San Juan - and sometimes wears a dress - made up for the game's lack of dazzle. Born Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio, he grew up in Puerto Rico's working-class coastal town of Vega Bajal, came of age in a period marked by economic recession and natural disasters - like 2017's Hurricane Maria, when Trump infamously tossed paper towels into a suffering crowd - and just ten years ago was a student working at an Econo supermarket and writing songs in his spare time.

Emerging from a small Caribbean island with a long and painful colonial history, Benito started out "just trying to connect with my roots, connect with my people, connect with myself." Today, as the most-streamed artist on the planet with 90.5 million monthly listeners on Spotify, he's hailed as the King of Latin Trap, a Spanish-language derivative of US rap merged with home-grown reggaeton and salsa, often with dark themes of street life. He's also posited as a stunning success story who defies Trump's (white) America First bigotry, with a "solemn devotion to his land, identity (and) history" while declining to translate his music to English or compromise his politics. In her five-star review of his half-time show, Stefanie Fernández above all lauds his music as "a thrilling ode to Boricua joy" - not just Puerto Rican, but with a deep sense of resistance and celebration of "the love, the community and the absolute joy that we create together every day in spite of everything."

His electrifying arrival on the stage of the Super Bowl, in the belly of the beast of capitalism and nationalism and singing in “non-English,” was widely deemed "a cultural game changer" and "a landmark moment for Latinos," especially now amidst state terror; said an activist: "We need a loud, proud voice, and we need that voice to be in Spanish." Still, in a trailer before the show, Benito kept things chill. "It's gonna be fun and easy," he said. "People don’t even have to learn Spanish. It's better they just learn to dance." In the face of oligarchic ad rates - $10 million for a 30-second spot, including one for Epstein survivors - NFL commissioner Roger Goodell praised Bad Bunny as “one of the greatest artists in the world." Also, even in the face of MAGA outrage, he needs him for the same real-world, changing-demographic reason the NFL now runs 75 Spanish-language broadcasts a season. From one executive: "It's mathematically impossible for the League to grow without Latinos."

Bad Bunny's cinematic, elaborately choreographed, 13-minute homage to his island home, studded with sultry dancers, began in vast colonialist sugarcane and unfolded in "an entire ecosystem of community": workers in straw hats, old guys at dominoes, street vendors selling coco frío, shaved ice, tacos (by LA's Villa’s Tacos), boxers Xander Zayas and Emiliano Vargas, a brass band, an actual wedding, a block party with barbershops and bodegas, a shot from Toñita, owner of one of New York City's last Puerto Rican social clubs. Lady Gaga and Ricky Martin sang; there were cameos by other Latin artists - Pedro Pascal, Cardi B - history and real life were everywhere. He carried the flag of Puerto Rican independence; his white jacket bore his mother’s birth year, 1964; he crashed through a roof, symbolizing the island's shoddy housing; he climbed an electric pole with flickering power lines overhead, a wry nod to its chronic outages and failing power grid. And he handed his newly won Grammy to a little boy, as young Benito: future meets past.

The buoyant crowds around him were young, old, dark, light, men, women, heavy, slim - redefining, said one fan, "who gets to be American," and how broad that definition can be. Like his "ICE out" declaration just last weekend, when he won three Grammys, including a historic album of the year, for........

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