There will be a halftime concert at the National Title Game, and it will be Bruno Mars. There is no sourcing on this, and no inside information, and we don’t need any. It will be Bruno Mars, because the default choice for any broad consumer event’s soundtrack in the years 2017-18 is Bruno Mars. Accept it. It’s Bruno Mars for the rest of your life, at every turn, whether you like it or not.
Don’t attempt to fight it. Look at him and realize how doomed you are to even consider fighting it. Bruno is short, and threatening to no one. He is pretty-handsome, not threatening-handsome, and sings songs about how good he’ll be to your girl that contain exactly three to four PG-13 rated profanities, max.
There’s always a radio edit, because he knows some of you want to listen with the kids in the car. Your kids are going to want to listen to Bruno Mars, too, even if they have no idea what waking up in Miami with no jammies means. Bruno Mars makes jams for your grandma and her grandbabies. Bruno Mars makes music for your pets. Even your plants crave Bruno Mars. They can’t say this, but they do, and turn their flowers to the speakers of your home sound system to soak up his nourishing, inoffensive wedding party blend of 80s and 90s studio sounds.
Life is Bruno Mars now. It is all Bruno Mars, as far as the ear can hear, as far as the eye can see. There will be nothing but Bruno Mars at every event calling for a wide, demographically impossible compromise on taste.
Sure, the national title game will be in Atlanta, and the logical choice would be a hip-hop act. The subsequent problem will be half the crowd wanting Luke Bryan, Belk Whitburp, Toyotathon Whitley, or whatever other line beard-having truckgirlbeer enthusiast of the moment bubbles up from Nashville’s bottomless shitspring of neo-country doltjapes. ESPN will try to bridge the gap, fail, and then come to the answer everyone else has come to in America.
The answer is always Bruno Mars. He is the John Cena of music, because he tries very, very hard. He will try very hard, and you will hate him for that. It will be extremely lame to watch someone try that hard for two minutes, and then in the two minutes and one seconds it takes for your heart to unharden you will realize Bruno Mars is trying, and that you respect trying, even if you know it is deeply uncool to ever obviously try. Bruno Mars even does Make-A-Wish work like John Cena does. He does not deadlift six hundred pounds—yet. YET.
It would be disgusting how much you do not hate Bruno Mars by the time this is over, if you could muster the disgust to even feel the theoretical emotion “disgust.” But he just sang a song summarizing your new feelings for him. You would take a grenade for this tiny man, if only for the nine-and-a-half minutes of corporate sponsorship-approved time he took up in your life, and even if he wears a baby fedora. For some reason it works on him! You could hate him for this, but can’t.
Bruno Mars is for everyone. Apply him liberally to everyone, at all times. He is like ordering pizza for a nation. There are other foods, but none satisfy as many palates at once. Like pizza, for a price he will be at your door in 30 minutes or less.
This is not an exaggeration. Bruno Mars hustles so hard that if you called him with the appropriate fee ready in cash or check form, Bruno Mars would be at your door in 30 minutes. Bruno Mars might even take payments via Square on his phone. On review, let’s be totally honest: Bruno Mars definitely takes payments for his services on Square, and then rocks the shit out of a quinceañera in the Valley for 90 minutes of perfectly choreographed family entertainment.
TL;DR: Bruno Mars will be the halftime entertainment for the rest of our lives and you just need to accept that, because that is what Bruno Mars is designed to do. For $45,000 and expenses, he will perform a postgame concert, too, just as a discounted bonus, with an option for an afterparty. You may even wake up to Bruno Mars playing in your hotel room at 5 a.m.. If so, you won’t mind, because yes it’s your hotel room at 5 a.m., but he’s just so damn likable, even if the cops are banging at the door, and you’re pretty sure you heard all this on a record from 1989, but you can’t quite put your finger on which one.
P.S. Because this is a college football event in the south, the organizers will have to consider whether he is threatening to racists. Dear reader, Bruno Mars is half-Filipino, half Puerto Rican/Jewish. Racists do not even understand this combination enough to get angry, nor can find many of these places on a map. Their confusion will disappear when his tight, not entirely original but expertly executed dance moves melt their Golden Corral-clogged hearts.
P.P.S. Ashlee Simpson is still an option, tho.