Blink-182 – “All The Small Things”

  We start out with the Blinkers apparently having just stepped off a private jet. They’re all wearing completely white outfits, so either they’re practicing to be orderlies or they’ve just returned from Fantasy Island. Then we suddenly cut to a crowd of fans somewhere, with Mark (I think) dancing around in his underwear whilst wearing an odd hat. This is a possible sign of the Apocalypse, so we should all pack a bag and prepare to run like hell, just in case.

  Then the rest of the band shows up, and now we have Tom acting all ghetto-fabulous while the other guys pretend that they’re his backup singers only without coordinated moves or hairstyles. Zip over to Tom wearing what might be a bustier made out of Minnie Mouse’s ears, winking at us because the outfit makes him feel unbelievably sexy. (There are some other people behind him wearing matching camouflage pants and trying to dance, but you really don’t care what they’re doing since we can’t get past the bustier.)

  We get to see the band actually perform for roughly two seconds, then we’re flying all over the place again, with more of the ghetto fab, the rodent undergarments, the underwear, and hundreds of screaming women who are either terrified or incredibly horny. (There’s also some mess with the three guys wearing candy-colored silk shirts and sporting blacked-out teeth, making them look like hillbillies that got hit by an exploding Oompa Loompa.)

  And the uncertainty continues, with more of Tom leading his camouflage dance troupe where no one is really paying attention to him, the guys getting all boy-band on a beach with matching black t-shirts and crashing waves, the underwear that remains startling with each new shot, Mark getting jealous and wanting his own bustier, something about an airplane hangar and a possible jet-fuel spill that makes people assume a squatting position, and the women who are screaming in either agony or ecstasy.

  (I look down and realize that we’re only one minute into the video. If we keep this pace up, my fingers are gonna snap right off of this keyboard. These guys need to settle down and let the backup dancers do something for a while. Then I look back at the video and realize that during my one-second distraction I’ve probably missed 47 jump shots and at least one round of Mark making his wondernuts bounce in his panties.)

  Cut to Tom jacking around with one of those coin-operated telescopes, through which he is watching Mark being attacked on the beach by a dog, with the dog trying to rip Mark’s pants off. (Probably so Fido can take them to the other Mark in the scene where he doesn’t have any.) Next we have Tom on that same beach (that set is getting a workout), flopped on his belly and warbling to us. This scene prepares us in no way at all for the next one, where one of the guys is dressed as a girl, standing on a rock and clutching one of those giant rubber balls that were a hoot when you were little until someone hit you in the face with it and then all the neighbor kids had to go home while Mommy wiped your tears and drank vodka out of a paper cup.

  Man-Girl suddenly starts racing down the beach with her ball in a gratuitous scene where s/he shows lots of butt crack and flopping pigtails. I have no idea what this is supposed to mean, but I suddenly want to watch Chariots of Fire and the third season of  The L Word.

  Next we have Tom starting to get slightly amorous with that telescope, so he apparently has a fetish about things that magnify, more dancing around in the jet-fuel spill like nothing bad can happen doing that, and the guys running naked down the worn-out beach that is probably ready for all these people to stop tromping around like idiots and just go home. There’s also a bit where Mark spends some quality time with some lovely ladies that are pouring hot wax on him. (Now that’s a Scentsy part that I would attend, mmm hmm.)

  Back to Tom, who is now openly frenching the turn-knob on the telescope, so don’t be surprised if little baby telescopes show up on the tour bus in nine months.  Then they finally let Travis have some serious screen time, and he spends it by running down that tired beach with a busty woman who apparently wants nothing more than to be hurled to the ground so she and Travis can roll around like an enchilada on crack. This romantic montage is mixed in with more shots of the colorful hillbillies, Mark taking an erotic shower while fully-dressed (now he’s going to put his clothes on?), and Tom and Mark sniffing each other’s flowers.

  All of this is upstaged by the image of Tom sitting on a man-throne and lustily unrolling the toilet paper. With a vanity wind-machine blowing, no less. And a pirate shirt. (I’m sure they had a reason for going there, they just didn’t leave any notes behind when they did.)

  Anyway, we’re rolling into the final chorus of the song, so we wrap things up by revisiting all of the special places we’ve been, so you can choose your favorites and possibly act them out at your next party. Jet fuel, ghetto glam, underwear, screaming fans who show their adulation by exposing themselves and/or making marriage proposals, and Travis’ little girlfriend from the beach waving a sign announcing her pregnancy, so he apparently has some very quick and efficient sperm.

  And then the boys wave goodbye and hop back on their plane, as unsatisfied women wail and a grown man wearing a giant banana cries. It’s very sad….

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The Lumineers – “Ho Hey”

  We start out by reviewing a framed photograph and some nice homespun artwork on a wall, helping establish the fact that we’re about to review the work of a folk rock band and not the latest bragfest from a rapper who can’t rhyme unless a nearly-nude woman is hanging on each arm, both of them begging for his physical attentions. Then the camera turns and we follow a string of old-timey lights down a darkened hallway, so we’re either about to meet the pleasant folk singers or we’re about to be attacked by a masked serial killer with questionable fixation issues.

  We make it to the end of the hallway without any bloodshed, and here comes lead singer Wesley walking out of a side room (hey, what was happening in there?), strumming his guitar and wearing a festive hat. He doesn’t immediately face us, so we might have done something wrong with our arrival (were we supposed to bring a covered dish?), but he appears to get over it and turns in our direction. Then he walks right past us and keeps singing to someone that we can’t see.

  Hmm. I guess we should have read up on proper Lumineer etiquette, because we’re obviously doing something wrong. Maybe there’s a brochure on a table somewhere?

 Wesley strolls back down the long hallway, pausing in front of an open door along the way. We can’t really see much of what’s in the room, but it seems to be filled with the kind of junk people should just throw away but there’s always something interesting on TV and it never happens. I’m not really sure what we’re supposed to be learning here, but we’ve already pissed Wesley off so I make sure to gaze at the broken and dusty whatever with considerable awe and respect.

  Then we’re suddenly in another part of this building, which could be anything from an abandoned school to an Amish recording studio to that creepy Overlook Hotel where Jack Nicholson went cray-cray and became best friends with an axe. Wesley and Jeremiah suddenly make a grand entrance from behind a poorly-designed red curtain. (Did Helen Keller hang that thing?) They are quickly joined by Neyla, and the three of them trot down another hallway, very happy to be singing and walking through an odd structure, wearing simple clothing devoid of bling.

  As they shuffle along, they start doing these little synchronized dips at key moments in the song, usually during a “ho” or a “hey”.  Then they kick in with some nifty footwork, indicating that there is actually a line dance that goes with this little ditty, which means that I have missed yet another cultural development and I should be woefully ashamed.

  Oh wait, I think somebody just stomped on a light bulb, which seems rather violent for a song about devotional love and abbreviated yodeling. I start to ask Neyla about this, but she chooses that moment to ignore me and turn back toward the main hallway, where we can see lots of people dressed just like Wesley and Jeremiah, hats included, running past. (Some of the runners have breasts, so they’re not exactly like Wes and Jerry, unless there are a few critical details that have been left out of the band biographies.)

  Neyla runs to join them, so we do as well, because we sure as hell don’t know where the exits are in this place. We end up in a large room where the band is suddenly giving an impromptu concert for all the folks who took the time to dress alike. Whoops, we’re back to just the three band members two-stepping down that one hall, then the big room again, then the hall once more, with the clones joining the band and creating a capacity issue. Back to just the three, with Jeremiah rudely knocking over a cupcake piñata with his tambourine.

  I officially don’t know what’s going on here. Is there a part coming up where Rachel Maddow walks in and helps me understand things? I’m starting to feel like Shelley Duvall not understanding that Jack Nicholson doesn’t understand that the hotel is haunted and some serious not-good is about to happen.

  And we’re back in the big room, where someone has quickly accessorized the goings-on with more strings of lights and roses that appear to be hanging from the ceiling. This makes everyone very happy and they all throw their matching hats in the hair while an unseen member of the cast sets of a confetti machine, which results in thousands of pieces of colorful paper filling the air. (Think of the trees, people! Surely it’s not good to destroy an ancient forest just so you can pretend you’re at a victory parade.)

  But no one is interested in my concerns, because I’m the fool that didn’t bring a covered dish or at least a decent bottle of dandelion wine. (There’s even one girl, that sort of looks like Angelina Jolie but without the lips or the product or the career, who flips me the finger. Or she might have been just pointing at the cash bar and asking me to grab her another apple martini. I really couldn’t tell because of all the dead trees in the air.)

  We roll into the final bit of the song, where the ho’s and the hey’s become super important, and the whole crowd is in a joyous rapture at getting to yell out those bits. So they stomp and clap and holler, as Wesley and Jeremiah smile and enjoy the love while the song ends.

  Wait a minute, where’s Neyla? Is she out in one of the hallways, holding hands with her twin sister and waiting for Danny to ride by on a Big Wheel?

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Kelly Clarkson – “Catch My Breath”

  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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