The Super Bowl used to be about football. Now it’s a referendum on everything except football. The anthem is a loyalty test. The halftime show is a battlefield for culture warriors. The ads are sermons in disguise—crypto is liberty, beer is patriotism, cars are morality plays.
On the turf, players sacrifice knees and brains while commentators argue about who stood, who kneeled, and who disrespected America by existing. One team wins the trophy. The rest of us get reminded that nothing in this country can stay outside the culture war.
The stadium is a coliseum for grievance. Corporate suites toast champagne while fans in the cheap seats calculate rent against ticket stubs. The game ends, but the outrage keeps replaying.
We don’t do bread and circuses here. We do debt and circuses.