THE SUPERIOR BOWL

If anything came across loud and clear during Super Bowl XLI last night, it was that we need a constitutional amendment separating church and sports.

In the shocking display of overt religiosity, the forces of good and evil duked it out before a worldwide audience estimated to be in the zillions. By the time the divine Indianapolis Colts accepted the Lombardi Trophy, both owner and coach declared that their victory would not have been possible without God wanting the Bears to lose.

As the Armageddon of sports, the Super Bowl started in a religious fervor, with the pre-game videos of Bears and Colts giving American children a lesson in values: the Lombardi way. You win, or you are forgotten. Winning isn't everything, it's the only thing.

The lesson in place, the key players were then introduced, and with that, the announcement of the Bears co-captain, Mohammed. Throwing him to the lions, the fans booed the false prophet, and then the skies opened up. It continued raining for 40 plays and 40 fights.

The Savior, Peyton Manning, dressed in white, took to the field seven points down, and quickly launched an interception. Then the forces of evil, led by Mohammed, made some impressive plays that, had the Bears won the war, would surely have made him MVP: Most Valuable Prophet.

Instead, with every advance, Mohammed was booed. The die was cast.

With Hail Marys out of his system, Passer Peyton parted the waters for a total of 247 yards, opening up the ground game.

At half-time the Godlike Prince took over by turning the falling water into wine. Purple rain fell from the skies. Soon, the whole stadium was enveloped in a purple haze reminiscent of the smoky fires of hell. With 50,000 plus Christians whipped to a frenzy, Prince did his androgynous thing disguised as an old washer-woman.

But no one was fooled. Prince was there for the profit. Curiously backing up Prince were androgynous marching queens in football uniforms. The juxtaposition of masculine and feminine angered God and the skies opened up even more.

By the time the goofy-looking owner of the Colts and coach Tony Dungy lifted the Lombardi Trophy over their heads, no-one needed to be reminded by them, again, that their victory was God's will.

With the war going badly in Iraq, it was a time for American yahoos to let go and let God. It was also a time to export our Christian values to the world. Though the commercials ignored the carnage in Iraq, they did reflect the bloodshed that American viewers demand. We had face-slapping, rock-throwing, meteor-zapping, chest-hair ripping gladiators facing off in the Madison Avenue war. Whatever happened to the Coked-up singers of Super Bowls past who taught the world to sing in perfect harmony?

By the end of the spectacle, the Christian God knew that His message had been delivered. Sure Americans had won all the battles and still lost the war. But Americans are tough. We are not to be messed with. And at least in our National Cathedral--at least at our Super Bowl--at least for two hours--Americans could still reign Supreme.