Train – “50 Ways To Say Goodbye”

  We start off with lead singer Pat fondling some tomatoes at a grocery store, because that’s just one of the things you do when your band isn’t currently touring and your Saturday nights are suddenly free. Lo and behold, here comes David Hasselhoff strolling up, after having apparently goosed a woman in a mini-skirt. (Did she smell like a cheeseburger?) The two of them stand there and chit-chat about the freshness of the produce (because straight guys always do that) until David gets bored with checking for firmness and asks the question “where’s your girlfriend?”.

  Cut to one of the store aisles, where a mariachi band is playing. (This always seems to happen near the jars of olives, have you noticed that?) Pat and David just glare at the performing trio, probably because they both need some of those olives for a nice antipasto they were planning on serving to dinner guests and now they can’t get to them. There’s a lot of heartbreak and obstructionism in grocery stores these days.

  But we can’t worry too much about that, because it’s time for Pat to start singing, and he chooses to do so in front of the fresh-meat glass cases. (The attendant appears to be a bit miffed about Pat not having taken a number yet still wanting to be served, but what can you do when celebrities want meat?) Quick shot of Pat waving a banana in another part of the store, then he’s back at the meat counter where the attendant is pulling on rubber gloves. Oh? Is Pat about to get his prostate checked as well? This is truly a full-service retail establishment.

  Another quick shot, this one of a scantily-clad woman in a bathroom. I’m assuming it’s not the bathroom at the grocery store, because it’s relatively clean and we don’t have any graffiti on the walls. But we don’t actually see the woman’s face and she’s gone before we can ask any questions like “Who are you?” and “What happened to most of your clothes?”.

  Back to Pat wandering around the store and vocalizing while he snatches up prunes and such, another cameo with him at the meat counter, and then we have the whole band performing at a venue that looks like a glorified high-school prom. (Those blue curtains have got to go.) Since this is the peppy chorus, everyone is really excited and banging on their instruments with gusto while Pat bounces and does hand choreography.

  This triggers a montage of scenes where we get to see more of the Bathroom Woman and we learn three things: One, the woman is apparently Pat’s girlfriend (why isn’t she helping him with the shopping?), two, she is played by the actress Taryn Manning (isn’t she supposed to tormenting her brother on Hawaii Five-0 and not shacking up with Pat?), and three, Pat is very invested in thinking of creative ways to kill Taryn’s perky but somewhat tawdry ass.

  We have no idea what Taryn has done to deserve an expedited trip to the cemetery, but it must have been really bad for Pat to write a whole song about it. (Maybe it was the startling hair style that Taryn brazenly wore in the one scene with the swimming pool. Who knows.)

  We drop back by the high-school prom to see that the band is still keeping the crowd excited as they wait to hear who won King and Queen of the FFA Hog-Calling contest, then we zip over to the olive aisle in the store so we can watch the mariachi band play some more, reminding us of who started all this mess in the first place, in case you feel the urge to file litigation of some kind. The camera stays on them for quite some time in case you need to identify them in a police line-up.

  More jumping around, then we settle on Pat and the Grim Reaper in one of the grocery store aisles, possibly arguing over the best type of cooking oil or spaghetti sauce one should use for the entrée. (I really don’t know what Pat is holding as he argues with Death. I’m more concerned about the big-ass scythe Death is clutching as the words get more heated.) This is followed by a quick run-thru of Pat meeting an Hassidic Jew who keeps fingering the scallions, Pat purchasing the bananas that he has apparently developed a relationship with, and Pat letting Death sniff some sardines in a can.

  No idea.

  Oh wait, we’re back to another montage involving Taryn, a review of more of the creative ways she can head home to Jesus. (Or Satan. Who am I to judge?) There’s some mess about a lion (David Hasselhoff tries to act like a lion in support of this plot point, and he probably shouldn’t have, not his best look), a bit where Taryn is strobe-lighted to death by an aggressive lesbian at the Valley Girl Disco, and Taryn stepping on a tack at the top of a staircase so that some stagehand can throw a clearly fake dummy that doesn’t even look like Taryn toward the bottom of the stars.

  But the most startling image in this whole gee-whiz ride of loopiness? The scenes where Pat and David are holding un-shucked ears of corn at each other so they can use them as microphones and perform a duet.  There’s so much Freudian slippage going on there that I could get 27 blog posts out of it.

  And that’s basically how we roll through the rest of the video. We get further examples of how Taryn can depart the Earth, although we don’t get anywhere near 50 of them, because that would require a mini-series starring Tori Spelling and Valerie Bertinelli. (My favorite of the batch? The one where Taryn gets buried in a freshly-poured section of sidewalk, her legs sticking in the air, and a passing Housewife of Rodeo Drive snatches off Taryn’s designer shoes and hightails it up the street. You go, gurl!)

  And there’s more of Pat swapping triple-coupons with the Grim Reaper in the Dairy aisle, more of David hamming it up in the produce aisle (possibly way more than is completely necessary, to the point where you wonder if he’s really in on the joke or if he thinks he’s starring in a Baywatch reunion where he got hit in the head by a surfboard too many times), and some more fun in the meat aisle, where the butcher is using a pig’s foot to stamp out what happens when poor decisions are made at the deli counter.

  The mariachi band keeps playing throughout all of this, so we still can’t rule them out as the true source of the problem and a possible portal to Hell. Maybe it’s the over-use of embroidery on their outfits that is making them bitter and vindictive.

  Oh, and there’s a final death tableau with Taryn where she leans out of her car window to better study a swarthy muscleman posing as a road-construction worker, only to have her head lopped off by a passing car driven by one of those extremely old geezers who shouldn’t be allowed access to a vehicle or re-elected to Congress. The head flies into the yard of a nearby house, where the MTV-raised children proceed to use Taryn’s noggin as a soccer ball, with one of them quickly scoring a goal. (Was this thing directed by David Lynch?)

  The song proper ends, and we’re back in the produce section, where Pat and David first fondled hothouse tomatoes together and bonded over shared corncobs. David is trying to console Pat over the horrid death(s) of his beloved, using the acting style of “I’m not really sure what to do here so I’m going to repeat the word ‘horrible’ 46 times and hope it reads as real”. Then here comes Taryn waltzing up, completely un-dead, waving around a zucchini, and acting completely clueless about (or at least not offended by) the fact that her boyfriend has tried to kill her 50 times. She then plucks up an el diablo tomato and wanders off, as Patt and Hoff realize that they can’t go on tour together just yet…

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Train - “Drive By”

  We start off with lead singer Pat, sitting in a fancy house with a stunning view, as he and his hair talk to a not-happy woman on the phone. Then again, she sounds vaguely British, and those people are always disapproving of something. Anyway, she signs off, and Pat decides that it’s the perfect time to run to his garage and pull the car cover off a vehicle. (You’d think he had people on his staff who could do that for him.)

  The car turns out to be a ‘67 Firebird convertible (this is the part where vintage car-loving people would have a small orgasm and the clueless rest of us would go “hey, it has four wheels!”), and Pat immediately hops in it and drives away. (What’s up with that really ugly garage in an otherwise stellar house?) He maneuvers the hills of San Francisco and heads out into the countryside.

  Where he manages to find the rest of his band performing near a large tree. Cut to what at first glance appears to be a clan of Amish people standing on a rural lane (watch out for those horse-drawn wagons!), but soon turns out to be some type of wine tour, led by a pretty woman wearing interesting boots and a jacket that seems to be missing some of its structure. Cut back to The Singing Tree, where Pat performs an odd dance step while the rest of the band pretends that they don’t have cameras in their faces.

  Checking in on the wine-tour business, we see that everyone has moved inside to a really long table. Folks seem to be quite pleased about life, which probably has something to do with the 412 nearly-empty wineglasses scattered about. Pat catches the eye of Pretty Lady (let’s call her Tanya) and he holds up his current wine glass in a manner that indicates he sure hopes the tour gets a lot more intimate shortly.

  Then we’re back outside, with Pat and Tanya apparently getting to know one another a little bit. (They shake hands, which might be a wine-people symbol for “I really love your peaches want to shake your tree”, not sure.) Two seconds later we see the two of them flying down the road in Pat’s killer car, with Tanya enjoying the breeze, throwing her head back and guffawing, because pretty people can get away with that without looking awkward.

  Whoops, maybe we weren’t supposed to see that getaway business yet, because now we’re back at the vineyard, where they are having one of those three-legged races. (This is clearly a result of the wine.) Pat and Tanya win, naturally, and then immediately proceed to a grape-stomping competition, where, naturally, both of them manage to fall down and get covered in purple juice. (Watch closely for a brief shot of Lucille Ball in the background.)

  Montage of Pat driving down different unnamed streets, with what appears to be other vintage muscle cars driving behind him. This might lead to something later on, might not, there are clearly no rules when it comes to music videos.

  Back to Pat and Tanya, who have managed to find a quiet spot down in the massive wine cellar. They continue to drink, because everyone knows that budding relationships have to be alcohol-based or they don’t really count. Eventually we see them giggling their way into what we’ll assume is Tanya’s abode, where they proceed to laugh and flirt and test her mattress springs to ensure that they are providing full support.

  Next morning, post-bouncing, we see Pat wake first, and he glances at slumbering Tanya in that “whoopsie” way that men have when it comes time to take responsibility for their actions. He, of course, slips away, leaving Tanya to awake later and discover his absence, which makes her a little blue, because she doesn’t let just anybody use her furniture for entertainment purposes.

  Hours or years later, we see Pat driving his hoopty into some parking lot where there are lots of other classic cars scattered about. (It appears that people who own expensive, collectible automobiles like to gather in random spots and admire each others’ hardware.) We have another montage, this one of folks thrilled to be standing next to throbbing engines and spokes-models wearing short-shorts and fondling bottles of car wax.

  This goes on for much longer than dramatically necessary, so I’m glad when we get to the point where we spy Pat sitting in his car and furtively calling Tanya. (Or at least calling someone with a contact photo that looks exactly like her. She might have a twin. Who knows?) Tanya apparently does not care to take his call, which is no surprise, considering how he got him some yum-yum and then ran out the door.

  Pat looks sad for roughly two seconds, then we see him back on the road, because you always feel better when the wind is blowing through your shellacked hair that doesn’t move a millimeter. Oh, look, he’s driving through the gates of the vineyard, followed by dozens of his buddies from the classic-car hoedown in that parking lot. (I guess they ran out of car wax and people got bored.)

  Tanya, apparently conducting another tour and conveniently standing on a large balcony that allows her to see Pat’s parade, gazes in wonder while the setting sun highlights her dewiness. Pat leads his new friends into a large circle drive, where they proceed to roll along at a half a mile an hour so Pat can sing to the lovely lass up yonder.

  This bit also goes on a bit longer than anyone not in the video would deem necessary, but I guess there were contractual expectations that had to be met. (Or maybe the director wandered off to sample more wine and had to be retrieved.) In any case, about a month later, Pat finally parks his car, his friends park theirs, and everybody gets out so they can wait for a reaction from Sheena Easton on the balcony.

  And, of course, she glowingly reacts with utter joy and happiness that Pat has made his way back into her life, despite his penchant for hit-and-run sex and apparent desire to spend most of his quality time at car shows and not her lovely vineyard in the valley, pun firmly intended. We get a final shot of them once again barreling down a country road in Pat’s speed-racer, wind whipping things about.

  I hope the Amish know they’re coming…


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Train - “Drops Of Jupiter”

We start out with Pat just sitting on a stage, surrounded by sound equipment and a lack of anybody else. Then he and his boots get up and walk to the microphone stand and begin to wail. The camera pulls back from the stage, and we can see that we are in an older building of some kind, and that other members of the band are standing off to the side. I’m no music producer, but I think they’re standing in the wrong place.

Pat doesn’t seem to care, especially when the camera zooms in on him so he can make grimacing faces, widen his eyes, and let us review his slightly-bohemian couture. A few of the band members finally join him, and it’s becoming clear that this video is just going to be their performance, nothing fancy. Luckily, this song is from back in the day, before Pat adopted that annoying bed-head hairstyle, so at least we’ll be able to look at him without the constant urge to hand him a brush.

A group of ladies arrive and start setting up the tiny orchestra that plays on the song. I’m thinking someone should have told them to wear matching outfits, because their clashing styles makes me not want to be supportive. Pat distracts us from this fashion foul by touching the side of his face and smiling at how good it feels to do that.

The rest of the band arrives, and Pat sings his praises to Heaven. Or at least the attic. He doesn’t get any celestial confirmation, so he gives up on that angle and goes back to mugging for the camera. He discovers that if you stretch out the microphone stand way longer than necessary, and then lean it over so you can still sing, it sets up some really interesting cinematography. We spend far longer than we really should studying this development.

Then some other folks arrive, a couple with initially unspecified duties. The woman is sporting one of those irritating backpacks shaped like stuffed animals, so we already don’t like her no matter what her purpose in life might be. These two sit on the floor and start watching the band. Are they the audience? Is that it?

Oh, guess not. Other people start wandering in and plopping their butts on the ground, a wide variety of people, proving that everybody loves Train or that the concert tickets were completely free. To show his appreciation, Pat does a bit where he poses like an airplane. Everyone smiles and nods in approval, so they must be serving cocktails in the lobby.

We focus on Pat singing for a while, and it’s clear that he really, really likes to wave his arms and hands about while telling his story. This is probably why the rest of the band doesn’t stand anywhere near him. It’s too dangerous. The audience continues to fill up, and I’m happy to report that some bright staffer has finally located some chairs for the folks to sit on so that everybody doesn’t have to waller around on the floor. Unless that’s just your thing.

Next up is an extended bit where Pat does his interpretation of a revivalist preacher discovering that his underwear drawer is empty, and therefore The Rapture is just around the corner and it‘s time to board the Jesus Plane. Or it’s time to milk the cows. Something. I really don’t know what that was all about. Happily, he soon stops doing that arms-wide-open thing and just sings for a while.

But even simple singing can be an eye-opening experience around Pat. At one point he throws open his mouth so wide that if we just added water we’d have a five-person hot tub. You don’t want to get near that, it’s too risky. Please remain seated until the pilot turns off the seatbelt sign.

Happily, the threat of death by gaping mouth is minimal, as the song and Pat are winding down. The camera hops around to show us that the band is having a swell time, the audience never wants to leave, and the only thing that could make everybody happier is that the waitress shows up with another round of drinks.

Quick bit with the camera focused on Pat’s face, with him sporting one of his trademark “is that sultry, or is that demonic” expressions that people from San Francisco tend to have. (Maybe it’s the weather up there?) Fade to black…


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Train - “Marry Me”

We start out with mini-interviews with various happily-coupled people, as they sit on a couch and chatter about how they met and what life has been like since then. It’s very sweet and touching. Unless you’re currently not in a relationship. Then it’s a wee bit irritating, especially when they won’t quite smiling. And they’re all straight. Where are the Rainbow People? Isn’t this band from San Francisco? Anyway…

We get to the video proper, and we’re in a diner somewhere. We get atmospheric shots of coffee brewing and orders on the wheel for the short-order cook. Then we hop over to the band performing on a subdued set with no accessories or props. And these are our two story lines. People ordering greasy things they shouldn’t eat and acoustic musicians apparently on a budget. And go.

Pat starts singing the song (which really is beautiful, not taking away from that) while a waitress is tidying up the counter after heathen diners have left a mess. She also has to deal with a coffee cup that some fool has apparently thrown on the floor as they left, having been raised in a barn or at least a house where crockery is not respected. She’s only dabbing daintily at the spilled coffee instead of quickly wiping the whole mess up, so she’s got some focus issues.

Then we spy Pat sitting in one of the booths and wearing an odd hat, pretending to read a paper but really watching Blondie as she screws around with the spilled caffeine. This allows us to get a close-up shot of Blondie, and of course she’s stunning in a wholesome sunshine way. She glances up at Pat, he smiles, she smiles, and you know that they instantly want each other more than anything in the entire world. Except possibly cheaper unlimited rates on their calling plans.

But, dang it, they can’t consummate their passion just yet. It seems that some other patron’s damn pancakes are ready, and Blondie (let’s call her Rebecca, as in the one with the farm, shall we?) has to scurry off because the now-hated cook is banging on his stupid little bell. Rebecca sighs, Pat sighs, and we cut back to the plain studio where Pat is singing while that Howie Mandel look-alike plays guitar beside him.

Diner again, with Rebecca doling out plates of food to a happy couple in another booth. (Side note: Some of the folks from the intro are playing couples in the diner as well. Awww.) She smiles at them brightly, pretending to care, then she glances over at Pat’s booth, to see how her future husband is doing.

And he’s gone. How sad. Rebecca crumbles emotionally, then turns to wander off somewhere and be devastated.

Back to the studio, where Pat and Howie look tragically stricken over the harsh severing of the budding relationship.

Diner once more, with Becky trying really hard to keep herself together as she waits on other people ordering pointless food in a world that is dark and unsatisfying, with lovers being ripped apart in cruel and painful ways. She pours coffee and snatches up tips, but her heart is broken forever, and the nunnery may be her only option.

The various couples in the booths don’t care if Rebecca has been crushed by the gods. They’re hungry and they want the blue plate special. That’s all that’s important. The couples clasp hands and smile at one another. A lot. Which only sends daggers of pain into Becky’s trembling, stomped-upon heart. These couples should not be surprised if a bit of arsenic mysteriously makes its way into their Denver omelets.

More studio time with Pat and friends. (Just curious. What happened to Pat’s waist? It’s a straight line from ear to foot. Hate him a little bit.)

At the diner, Rebecca apparently can’t concentrate on slinging hash, so she rips off her cute little waitress apron and throws it down, then marches out of the diner. Once outside, she glances hither and yon for any sign of Pat, her AWOL lover. Sadly, her yearning eyes find no purchase, and the dawn is bleak. (Yes, I just went Shakespeare on your ass. It felt right.) Becky, fighting tears, heads back inside.

Where she decides to just sit at one of the booths and sigh discontentedly. She stares at her cup of coffee and tries to process the fact that her life must surely be over because the man she knew for fifteen whole minutes is now gone from her life, and there’s no point in going on. Then her saddened eyes glance over at the sacred booth where Pat’s butt was planted before he destroyed her emotionally. She spies his funky hat on one of the seats, apparently tossed aside just like she has been. Oh?

She rushes to fondle the one remaining symbol of her errant lover, touching the brim with a yearning that far surpasses any other yearning ever felt on this planet. Lo and behold, altar-dumping Pat comes back in to the diner right at that moment. Their eyes meet, smiles are exchanged, and the video fades.

There’s still hope, folks. You can meet the man of your dreams while serving biscuits and gravy. Just make sure he understands that you want him desperately before you leave the check at his table…


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Train - “If It’s Love”

  We start off with a disclaimer that after years of touring, Train took some time off. And the following is what they did in their spare time. Okay, then, let’s see.

  Zoom in on Pat sitting at a makeup station, while some specialist makes sure that his hair retains that “just got out of bed look even though I paid someone hundreds of dollars to individually place each strand of hair”. The technician finishes and scurries off, so Pat stands up to admire the work as well as his all white outfit. He then puts on a black jacket and goes off to apparently not tour.

  He walks into a bedroom that might have been decorated by the first person kicked off of this season’s “Design Star”. (Vern would scream and run from the room.) He sits on the bed and starts singing. Right in the middle of his vocals, he decides to take a nap, pulling the blankets over him. Well, I suppose you can sleep whenever you want if you’re not touring, but seriously, dude, we’re in the middle of a video.

  Whoops, Pat is sitting back up on the bed and the covers aren’t messed up, so maybe I only imagined that last little bit. Pat sings some more for a while, and it gets just a wee bit boring, so my mind wanders and I wonder about things like where did he find that old-fashioned TV tray and what the hell happened to that lampshade.

  Cut to Pat singing with the band, which I thought they weren’t supposed to be doing right now, but everybody looks happy so I guess I shouldn’t quibble. They appear to be performing at some fancy shindig with velvet ropes keeping the unpopular people away from the good stuff. Paparazzi are dashing about and I’m sure Paris Hilton is around somewhere, trying to figure out how she can make this event about her.

  Now we have the story of what Jimmy did on his down time, when he apparently “tried new and inventive ways to raise money”. We see him at a pawn shop trying to unload a guitar, and I hate to break it to good ole Jimmy, but that’s not really a new and inventive thing to do. People have been going to pawn shops since they invented expensive drugs. Jimmy does get some cash, but he’s dissatisfied with the amount and stomps out of the store, realizing that with a tight budget he can only get his head waxed every other week.

  More of the band singing, and I notice that there are several people not even watching the band do their thing. These people get on my nerves at concerts. Why are you even here if you’re not going to hold your hands over your head and quiver like orgasms are wracking your body? And I don’t care if you are just an extra hired for this video shoot, not knowing the difference between Train and Caboose, get into character or you will never be hired for another fake audience.

  Next up is what Scott did last summer, which involves trying to sell his songs while standing beside a busy road. (Just me, or is this band not all that creative when they aren’t making music?) Some rich guy finally pulls up in his fancy car, handing over some cash for one of Scott’s CD’s with its crappy album art. Scott then does a jig of happiness before racing off to meet his inbred relatives for the barn dance over in Vagina Holler.

  And more of the band singing. This time the crowd seems far more enthusiastic, so they must have gotten the memo I sent earlier. The paparazzi go crazy with camera flashes when Pat does one of his signature moves, an interesting mix of street cool and Herman Munster changing a light bulb. One girl in the front of the crowd is so excited she nearly gives birth.

  We now learn that Train “even made some TV appearances”. Oh? Cut to Pat wearing some farm boy getup, complete with ball cap. It’s not that attractive, but the other guys are dressed as giant chickens, so Pat should really keep quiet or they’ll find something even more embarrassing for him to wear. The show they are taping appears to be some version of “Dancing with the Poultry Stars”, with the giant chickens trying to pop-and-lock without tripping over hay bales. Pat is not impressed with any of this, so he just stands there and waits for the shame to recede.

  The little director guy doesn’t like something about the scene (you might wanna start with the whole concept of animals that talk and dance, eh?), so he stomps up and waves his hands around. Pat doesn’t care, and signals the video editor to cut back to the band in happier times, which includes shots of Pat eating dinner and watching “his favorite TV show”, which is him and the band accepting a Grammy award. This vision thrills Pat so much that he can only chew on one side of his mouth.

  We get to the quiet part of the song just before the grand finale, so we head back to Pat and his bedroom, where he’s had it with his fancy clothes and starts ripping them off. But instead of titillating partial nudity, we are treated to Pat wearing his regular clothes underneath. Pat wanders out of the room, and the next thing you know the whole band is performing at a real concert.

  And that’s how we wind down the song and the video, with Pat and the gang giving the audience just what they want. (With a few shots of a poultry uprising back on the film set, with the giant chickens and Farmer Pat hurling eggs at the irritating director.) We fade to black.

  But not before we see a fleeting image of Paris Hilton trying to storm the stage to warble her new single, “If It’s Not About Me, You Need To Leave”…


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Train - “Hey, Soul Sister”

As the video starts rolling, the camera pans down from the sky and focuses on a little corner café, where the band members are just kicking off an impromptu jam session as they stand outside the café. Apparently this is one of the risks involved with dining at corner cafes. Rude musicians can suddenly break into song when all you want is your cobb salad with the dressing on the side.

There’s a handy street sign informing us that this hoedown is taking place at the corner of “Echo Park Av” and something else. That name rings a faint bell, so this is probably some really famous place that means a lot to people who live in California. For the rest of the country, there is no emotional attachment whatsoever. We just know that we shouldn’t eat at this place if we have a migraine.

Before the song gets very far, we are completely distracted by the band member playing what might be a ukulele or perhaps just a guitar that somebody left in the dryer too long. This dude looks just like Howie Mandell, which is actually a frightening thought if you let your mind dwell on it. Whoever he is, he’s very proud of his toy guitar.

Then we jump to an apartment of some kind, where all the furniture and accessories are completely white. Since this is not a realistic design choice, we know right away that something tragic is going to take place with the furnishings. There’s a woman sitting in the midst of all this, looking a little confused, maybe because the white shapes are all blending together and she’s really not certain where the door might be. She’s probably very hungry and sad.

Then we jump over to another apartment, this one inhabited by some guy dressed in black. We can’t really see HIS furniture just yet, so we don’t know if his belongings have a monochromatic theme as well, but we CAN see that there is a large, blank canvas on one wall. (I’m guessing all the hip, young people who live near cafes with spontaneous live entertainment have canvases on their walls.)

Oh look, the next line of the song lyrics suddenly appears on the canvas. That was very thoughtful on someone’s part. I don’t think I could have continued living if I didn’t know exactly what Pat Monahan was singing right at that moment. I am truly blessed.

Well, look at THAT. The next set of lyrics appears, and starts sliding off the canvas, along the wall, out the window and across the building. This is certainly a surprising development. Words shouldn’t really do that, you know? I’m starting to get a little unsettled and we’re just thirty seconds into the show.

Then we have more shots of the band members, Howie included, as they jam along to the perky fake happiness of the song and do cute little dances. Pat Monahan does get credit for perfecting the bed-head look that is still fashionable, but he will not be appearing on “Dancing with the Stars” anytime soon. Just sayin.

Then we realize that the slightly-creepy lyrics are now crawling around on all of the buildings are starting to leak on the sidewalks. I really don’t care for this. I know it’s supposed to be whimsical and fun, but it’s not coming across like that for me. It looks more like, I don’t know, the evil spread of the Dictionary Virus. I’m sure that if this video was playing in Hong Kong, the citizens would be running for those surgical masks they are so fond of.

More shots of the band dancing and singing. Pat has a really big chin, never noticed that before. Not a bad thing, just an observation, I’m trying to give you all the details you need. He still can’t dance, though, jittering around like somebody misplaced a stethoscope. And I hope someone tells the band that the crawling lyrics are now just above them, infesting the building where the café lives. I really don’t trust those words.

Uh oh, it’s too late. The lyrics are now appearing on other people sitting around and reading the paper because they are already bored with the chirpy song. I knew it. Those words are evil. But wait. The people don’t seem to mind. In fact, they seem quite pleased to be sporting the alphabet on their bodies. So are these crawling lyrics good or bad? I’m so confused.

Meanwhile, Pat and the gang are still playing and singing, completely unaware that mobile words have taken over the planet. The lyrics are all over the street, joined by these vicious thick arrows that are pointing in all directions, adding perplexity and mayhem to the scene.

Then, horror of horrors, the words and black lines invade the pristine all-white apartment, appearing on the walls and vases and couches. Sad girl ignores all of this and just pours herself a nice cup of coffee. Why is no one paying attention to what is happening around them? THIS is how criminals get elected to public office and nations go to war. Wake up and smell the copy!

Okay, we’re back to Pat and the bouncing band. It seems Pat got a memo from the corporate office while we were gone, and he’s stopped trying to dance. Now he’s making hand gestures that look like something out of a really bad junior high play. Big, bold and just too much, especially since he’s currently singing about his “untrimmed chest”. Do those two words belong together in a song? I don’t think so.

Then we spend a while cutting back and forth between the band and the sad girl in her now zebra-themed apartment. She seems to be in a better mood, having had her coffee and all, but she’s still not paying any attention to the letter invasion, instead choosing to read a large white book that doesn’t appear to have a title. (I guess the title decided to join the Noah’s Ark line of scampering letters as they frolic about town with mad abandon.)

Finally, sad girl notices the arrows vibrating all over her apartment, determines that they might actually be trying to get her attention, then she rushes out the door, happily following the arrows. This would not happen in Texas. Here, people would pull out a shotgun and shoot the arrows, then ask questions later. But I guess they do things differently in California.

Then we have a shot of the guy dressed in black jogging out of HIS apartment, also following the arrows. We haven’t seen him in a while, so who knows what he was up to, but at least he’s not dancing or reading nameless books.

The next few scenes involve sad white girl and brooding black guy wandering along the city blocks, following the helpful arrows that are leading them to their destination. I would assume they will eventually meet cute and have mixed-race children.

And the video ends with them doing exactly that, with their bipolar selves staggering toward each other in front of the very café where the Last Train to Rockville is finishing up their set. Pat finally quits dancing and making grand gestures, much to everyone’s relief, and the metropolis-dominating words are no longer in sight. You can see the diners in the café visibly relax as they realize that the alphabet is once again their friend. And the sun quietly sets on the corner of Echo Park Avenue and Sesame Street.

Today’s video was brought to you by the letters “B” and “W”….


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