Note: On the surface, this appears to be just a video of Kelly standing on a stage and reacting to some occasional fancy special effects around her as she sings. On a deeper level, Kelly is actually doing an interpretive dance on what it’s like to grow up in a small town in Texas. (She may not realize that’s what it is, so we’ll just have to tell her about it later.) And here we go…
We start out with Kelly standing a bit away from us, a lone, solitary figure. This is a representation of how many small Texas towns have populations that are so tiny that the figures are almost negative and the Census Bureau doesn’t even bother stopping by. When there are only 7 people in town, everybody knows your business and you can’t belch without everybody knowing about it in 3 seconds.
Then we have some images of water, another sign of things that are different in small towns. When you don’t have any citizens, you can’t collect any taxes to pay for adequate water-treatment facilities. You have to wait for it to rain before you can get a glass of water. It’s very sad. No wonder Kelly starting writing songs about a better life.
We zoom in on Kelly, and she’s wearing a dress that is very flattering but also could have doubled as a costume that a galactic empress might have worn in an old Star Trek episode. (She clearly wouldn’t have been able to purchase this at the local clothing emporium (which also doubles as a feed store), so she must have a cousin or something that lives in a bigger city and secretly sends her couture in the mail.)
Then Kelly starts singing, and she’s waving her arms with the initial segment of her interpretive dance, the part of the story that details what it’s like having the same teacher for more than one year whilst attaining a public education. (There’s only so much you can do when there are only 3 teachers in the entire school system, and one of them has to take extended leaves to bring in the crops during harvest season.)
We get a glimpse of some rather evocative rings on Kelly’s fingers (more down-low gifts from that cousin?) and another shot of water, then we see several different angles of Kelly’s now-blond tresses. (All good Texas women go blond at some point, it’s a tradition that dates back to the discovery of the first peroxide well in Beaumont.)
The first round of the chorus kicks in, and now Kelly is getting very dramatic, waving her hands and flipping her hair with intensity. This is probably the part about running from escaped cattle, because this happens all the time in farm-based communities. You’re innocently practicing your talent routine for the Armadillo Princess Beauty Pageant, and next thing you know there’s a herd of Angus taking over the Dairy Queen.
Oh wait, now there’s some graphic imagery of what might be roses turning into very bitter hornets. I’m not really sure about that bit of psychology, but when I turn to Kelly for some intel, she’s busy dancing under some pink storm clouds. Ah, so now we’re telling the story of the weather in Texas, a thing that boggles the mind. One minute it’s 112 degrees and the highways are buckling, then the next minute a cold front has frozen the cows’ tongues to their salt lick. (This is probably why they sound so angry when they moo.)
Whoops, now the clouds are gone, and Kelly is really waving her arms and subtly thrusting her hips. This might be the part where Kelly is discussing sexual relationships in the Lone Star state. (Bottom line: Everybody claims that they aren’t getting any but everyone is.) To simulate the climaxes that no one talks about, they shove a wind machine at Kelly so that her hair flies straight upward in a symbolic orgasm.
We now have what looks like water droplets flying through the night sky. Although you might think that Kelly is referencing water supplies again, she’s actually bravely bringing up another taboo subject: The fact that alien beings have somehow gotten past the Texas Rangers and infiltrated the state. I don’t know why Texans don’t like to talk about it, but it’s obvious that UFO’s can be the only explanation for the people you meet in certain West Texas towns.
Kelly loses me for a bit during a montage of her standing in water and getting her dress wet mixed with more of that wind machine, but then we roll into a segment where purple and gold fire is taking over the screen. This is clearly a reference to the significance of high-school football in a state where scoring touchdowns trumps all. It’s more important than home mortgages, happy marriages, and having the biggest barbecue grill. (Although that last bit runs a close second.)
We get a few shots of Kelly wearing what might be a jacket made out of Yeti fur, and I’m just going to have to let that one go. I have no idea.
Okay, Kelly has just changed her arm choreography, which means we’re on another chapter of her interpretive dance, and I believe this one concerns the political divide in the state. Despite the other 49 states gazing upon Texas with either horror or adulation (depending on the blueness or redness of the client base in those states), Texas is not a locked-in Fox News outpost. Change is on the horizon, and I believe Bob Dylan wrote a song about it, he just didn’t know it at the time.
Wait, where was I? Oh yeah, this is about Kelly dancing the story of her upbringing, not mine. We check back in with her, and at the moment she’s doing some more things with the Yeti jacket and trying to keep the wind-machine hair out of her face so she can sing the song. Then we suddenly roll into more scenes of the odd water droplets in the night sky and Kelly wearing an outfit that creates a star image above her breasts. Kelly really enjoys those droplets, and she even lets one fly out of her mouth.
Hold up. Is Kelly actually from a distant planet? Holy cow that would put a spin on things. I’m going to ignore this development for now, because it would totally change the meaning of all of her songs and I don’t think the world is ready for that. (Although I believe it’s a fair assessment to consider that Simon Cowell is not from Earth, instead being born in an alternate universe where harsh criticism of fledgling singers is considered admirable, and that maybe Kelly winning the first American Idol was an interplanetary conspiracy. OMG!)
Perhaps I should put down this wine. I might be hearing voices that are not real.
Back to Kelly, who is still jacking around with the water bubbles and wearing the inexplicable Yeti jacket, and then we have a scene where pretty fire clouds take over the top of the screen. This is probably symbolic of how this state can dry out to the point where simply blinking your eyelid can create enough friction to burn down 74 counties. This place gets parched. Of course, this doesn’t stop the idiots in their mammoth but pointless Chevy trucks from hurling a cigarette out the window.
Luckily, Kelly’s hair does not burst into flames, despite the angry clouds, which allows her to move into the final segment of her interpretive dance. Or maybe not. The billowing fire now moves to the ground, jeopardizing the long-ass skirt of Kelly’s sexy but still-discreet dress. She immediately launches into some defensive karate moves that she probably learned at the Dairy Queen after random steers thundered into the place looking for something sweet (yes, that image can mean a lot of things).
After several tense moments where it appears that her personal freedoms and choices might be at risk of being burned away (sounds like the 2012 presidential election when some people actually thought Romney might win), Kelly triumphs over the rude burning clouds, her color-treated hair intact and lovely.
We end the video with another water image, and then Kelly and her currently-golden locks glare directly at the camera and let us know that there is simply no stopping the girl from Burleson, Texas. (Take that, Clive Davis.) And then we fade to black.
Off screen, a galactic spaceship, headed by the real Captain Kirk and not the endless wannabees that followed, arrives to whisk Kelly away, with a brief stop in London to snag Simon…
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