I've written this article three times now, going back and forth over how criticizing Turning Point USA (TPUSA) would go over with an audience full of Charlie Kirk fans, myself among them. After surveying social media and talking to a few people, I've decided it needs to be said: TPUSA's alternate halftime show was a fumble, and an ugly one.
Kid Rock vs. Bad Bunny
TPUSA is arguably the most prominent beacon for Gen Z and Gen Alpha conservatives, in other words, people born between 1997 and 2014. When we're looking at this audience, it's safe to say people between the ages of 17 and 29 are not going to be impressed by Kid Rock, whose biggest hit, "All Summer Long," was released in 2007 — almost twenty years ago.
The official Super Bowl halftime show featured an act this target group loves. Granted, his lyrics are appalling, so it’s a good thing they’re all in Spanish—although maybe if they weren’t, parents would be outraged enough to do something. But as the cashier at my local Publix told me, “He has a great beat that just makes you want to get up and dance!” She is 20.
Yup, the kids love this guy for some reason. I don’t get it, but then again, I saw Brantley Gilbert play at a sorority function in the early oughts, so my opinion won’t be any sweat on his brow.
Let’s continue with football metaphors: the Kid Rock play was a bad call. TPUSA could have gotten Nicki Minaj or some other “red-pilled” performer and had better appeal. Second and ten, there’s still time to pick up some positive yards. For those non-football fans, that means there’s another chance to make something good happen.
The Stage
Some people are highly driven by something called FOMO, or Fear of Missing Out. The idea is they will jump on a bandwagon, even if they have no idea what it's about because, well, everyone else is doing it. Case it point, the ICE protestors who are clueless about what it is exactly they are protesting.
ICE protester in Philadelphia is clueless as to why she is there protesting 😂😂 pic.twitter.com/WgCQ8fGDZX
— Farm Girl Carrie 👩🌾 (@FarmGirlCarrie) February 1, 2026
TPUSA rented a small soundstage and built what looked like a double-ended stage. They then brought in maybe 100 people to make "the crowd." If I'm looking to be a part of something bigger than myself, I'd want the audience to be larger than my gym on a Monday morning. There was nothing there to make anyone feel like they were missing out for not already being on the TPUSA train.
The opening acts? Lame. Brantley Gilbert was wearing some canvas-shirt mash-up of Louis Vuitton and farmer cosplay and sang two songs. Gabby Barrett couldn’t be bothered to wear pants that were hemmed appropriately (even fashion tape would have been welcome!), so I was too distracted, waiting for her to trip over herself, to listen to her music. Lee Brice and his wanna-be Kelce brother facial hair sounded like every single pop-country bro on the radio.
TPUSA did nothing to compete with the hype and spectacle that is the official Super Bowl halftime show. Bad Bunny was out there making every kid who has ever been cast as "the tree" in a school play feel seen, as he fashioned a sugarcane field out of ghillie suits and suckers, but TPUSA has (wait for it) lasers.
Are we even trying, y'all? The second play call was a flop. Third down and still ten yards to go. Non-footballers, that means two wasted opportunities and we are no closer to scoring.
10-Yard Penalty for Total Lack of Messaging
TPUSA had a static screen with an image of the performers and "EVENT STARTING SOON" in aggressive font. Below, there was a crawl with a number people could text to "get involved in the movement," buy merch, and "change the culture on your campus."
No mention of what "the movement" is, who Charlie Kirk was, or what TPUSA actually does. They're clearly talking to the 18-22 year olds with the campus pitch, but TPUSA is assuming so much about their audience that they have lost sight of the opportunity.
This was the organization's chance to reach an outsized segment of the population, and they blew it. Parties across the country had Bad Bunny on one TV and TPUSA on another. Imagine college students binging on wings and chips, noticing the newly single hottie who just came in, and having to come up with an opening line and quick. My money is on "I don't speak Spanish, but this beat is sick" winning over "I've never heard this song before, but it sounds like my dad's music."
What should have happened is the already established snacker should have approached the beautiful one and said, "Oh my gosh, you've got to see this! No, not Bad Bunny, the other one — TP whatever!"
The songs did not construct a narrative. The visuals did not engage the audience. The whole thing was a story without a plot. This celebration of "faith, family, and freedom" was, thus far, bound in six songs that did not make me want to dance or sing. But then Kid Rock came on and I got really excited because I may or may not know every word to "Bawitdaba."
I feel like JD Vance, my fellow parent and peer, would have appreciated my silent-but-energetic lip-sync to Kid Rock's opening anthem. My kids were asleep and needed to stay asleep, regardless of my 1998 nostalgia. Parents know there is a way to get something done without alarming the children.
🚨 LMAO! This video is currently going viral among Democrats who say JD Vance runs awkwardly.
— Eric Daugherty (@EricLDaugh) July 13, 2025
To a normal person, this looks like a dad running uphill in a theme park to his young children.
Lamest scandal ever.
This comes from the same party that ran Tim Walz. pic.twitter.com/79Ntes0HaX
When I realized I was doing a better job than the rapper himself, who was only mouthing every third word or so, I stopped. Kid Rock was making Ashlee Simpson's SNL lip sync look Oscar-worthy. He would hold the microphone up to his face and then bring it down again without saying a word, or even pretending to.
Then, with a savage whiplash I was not prepared for, I was met with two musicians playing a duet of a song I did not recognize. The man with a pirate-inspired waistcoat and the woman with a killer black dress and red heels were crushing it in a way that reminded me of the music I used to play for my kids when they needed to go down for a nap: sweet, relaxing, happy, and not at all Kid Rock.
Robert Richey was introduced as the next performer — Kid Rock was up there (again), but this time he was actually singing and presenting himself as himself, not his stage persona. He sang about procrastinating and future regrets, about living life and following Jesus right now because there will come a time when you can't make that choice any longer. Totally what young folks want to and are ready to hear.
Photos of Charlie and Erika Kirk and their children were displayed in the background. I was taken back to that base emotion the day Charlie was shot: grief, horror, anger, shock, and fear. I remembered the footage of his assassination and the knowledge I had deep in my head that no one could survive that injury. It was brutal.
And then it was over. The only message I got out of the whole thing was a reminder that people out there hate people like me and you, people who don't believe what they do, enough to harm us. This was not the "faith, family, and freedom" I was promised. I want that 40 minutes of my life back, please.
There are theories out there that this Kid Rock-Robert Richey thing was supposed to be a transformation of sorts, demonstrating the power of a relationship with Jesus Christ. I won't pretend to know the man's faith journey or current standing with God. I was not part of the roundtable discussions planning this show. I will, however, remind folks that messaging should not be that convoluted. It's not hard to tell stories, inspire audiences, and gauge results. Which brings us to the final failure:
What was the point?
Imagine it's 4th and long — this is the last chance to make something happen, to stay in the game, to be worth the effort — and TPUSA threw the ball up to a wide-open receiver (over 5 million of them, in fact) but the receiver forgot we were playing. The ball hit the ground. The receivers looked around a little confused. What were we supposed to do again?
We are committed to identifying, educating, training, and organizing students to promote freedom.
TPUSA Mission Statement
How did this event meet this goal? How did Kid Rock promote freedom? Did Gabby Barrett do something to inspire students? Did Lee Brice educate anyone? Brantley Gilbert didn't organize anything that I'm aware of.
I can't help but think of Charlie looking down and wondering why everyone went through such a hassle. After all, the man changed hearts and minds with a pop-up tent and microphone. He proved it doesn't take anything but courage to grow a movement. The only courage I saw at TPUSA's show was singing openly about Jesus, but when we compare that to Bad Bunny's raunchy lyrics about demeaning women and personal gratification, it somehow feels less courageous and more common sense.
Was this show for the organization's mission? Or did they want to appeal to parents who weren't interested in gyrations and images of slavery? Because those two groups are not the same. In fact, those two groups were likely not even under the same roof.
So, what was the point, TPUSA? I get it; living in the wake of grief makes us do some random things to keep us from thinking of our pain. If this show was a distraction, I would understand, but Charlie would probably have wanted that time and money to go toward a summer retreat for students to strengthen the network and grow their skills to make change on their campus. Something like that is real and measurable and lasting.
Singing about Jesus is great, but an organization built on young people will not do itself any favors by acting like NIMBY parents.
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