but Jeep and the Boss are proposing it as a metaphorical reconciliation site for a nation of broken citizens who remain deeply terrified of one another. This is, in fact, a real chapel in Lebanon, Kan. Isn’t he the guy who’s supposed to know everything about hard work? Suggesting that we should all swiftly and metaphorically travel to the nucleus of White, rural America to make up and move along feels insulting and wrong. Despite the healing sound of his voice, Springsteen is ultimately preaching reconciliation without reckoning - which after January’s Capitol siege is no longer an acceptable path toward progress. Hey, maybe his intentions were good, or maybe he thought this farce would be okay after Bob Dylan did his dumb Super Bowl commercial, or maybe this whole cash grab is going straight to charity. All are more than welcome to come meet here - in the middle.” A folded newspaper flaps ominously on the front seat of Springsteen’s 1980 Jeep CJ-5 as he begins a spiel in the introspective cadence honed during his recent Broadway-to-Netflix thing: “There’s a chapel in Kansas standing on the exact center of the Lower 48. Titled “The Middle,” the ad begins with a hovering drone shot - always a drone shot! - over an empty two-lane highway.
Convincing someone that Springsteen is fraudulent, however, now requires much less work from both him and you: Just point the undecideds toward this new Jeep commercial set to air during Sunday’s Super Bowl. He’s a legit American folk hero under those klieg lights, sweaty and unbreakable, making his hard work pay off with such ecstatic returns, you might get tricked into thinking the American Dream is real. If you want to convince someone that Bruce Springsteen is God, you take them to a concert.