Pink – “Blow Me (One Last Kiss)”

  We start out with Pink and an anonymous dark-haired lover apparently indulging in a romantic picnic, presumably somewhere in the French countryside. The producers are going for an old-school look, which means we are filming in black and white and Pink is sporting a voluminous hairdo that has clearly not been tamed by modern grooming products. The title credits are in French, to match the scenery and locale. It’s all very nice and sweet, but since Pink is involved, you know that something wickedly cool will soon jack things up and suddenly we have an elephant stampede or some such.

  As the young lovers waller around on their probably hand-sewn blanket, Pink launches into the vocals, wearing flowers in her hair and a chunky metal necklace that could anchor a cruise ship. The couple gazes at one another with deep devotion or at least a desire for a round of wilderness sex, and things are heating up nicely. Then the dumb-ass guy (let’s call him Jacques) has the nerve to take a phone call just as Pink’s libido is at that point where phone calls clearly should not be taken.

  So Pink does the only appropriate thing in such a situation, meaning she takes her glass of wine and dumps the contents in Jacques’ face. (In a nice bit of film-making flair, the wine is in blood-red color, making the assault look quite artsy against the otherwise black and white footage.) Then Pink and her possibly-Bohemian outfit stand up and stomp off, apparently in search of men who have a better understanding about the nuances of voice mail. (I’m not sure where she might be headed, this being the countryside and all. In France. It’s not like you can call a taxi. But hey, girl’s a trooper, right?)

  Pink manages to find a dirt road, and decides this would be the perfect place to rip off her outer garments so that we can see she is wearing an aggressive bustier-thing under all that Bohemian mess. (But she manages to retain her lengthy, knee-banging pearl necklace, because you should always accessorize.) This new freedom of movement allows Pink to strut along with determination and eventual vengeance as she heads toward… well, I’m not sure. Perhaps a nice wine-tasting festival in the Loire Valley? Not clear.

  Instead, Pink and her pearls manage to run across another French dude (we’ll call him Olivier) who appears to be jacking around with his motorcycle on the side of the road. The motorcycle conveniently has one of those side-car things, perfect for transporting women who stumble out of the woods wearing a bustier and an attitude. Bertrand has more hair than Pink, which might prove to be an issue, but he also has the ability to take off his sunglasses in a sexy way and gaze at Pink with a healthy dose of lust and brimming testosterone.

  Next thing you know, Olivier is racing his scooter down the road whilst Pink is ensconced in the sidecar, with the wind making love to their mutual tresses. They eventually pull up outside a mammoth chateau (because where else would you take Pink if you found her wandering around in France?) and they clatter into the mammoth structure. Once inside, Olivier proceeds to work on a painting of Pink, probably because she felt it was the right moment to take off all her clothes, straddle an antique chair backwards, and shove her breasts into the 17^th-century fabric. (She still has her pearls, though. A true lady never forgets such things.)

  Olivier paints for quite some time. Wouldn’t you?

  There’s a brief montage of people arriving at the chateau for some type of formal occasion, based on their fancy gowns as they strut around on the manicured lawn leading to the front doors. Of course, this is France, where couture is highly important, so these people might just be stopping by to borrow a cup of sugar.

  Next up is Pink entering one of the ornate rooms in the chateau, a room that has rather dramatic stairs that she has to descend and an annoying amount of light that kind of obscures her outfit. But we can see enough to realize that Pink is sporting a form-fitting suit and a slicked-back, androgynous-qualifying hairdo that would make Annie Lennox proud. Pink glares at another woman in the room, one who is dressed a bit more gender-specific but is glaring back with an equal amount of displeasure about the other’s existence. Oh? Has Olivier been creating other paintings on the side?

  Interestingly enough, Pink and this other woman (let’s call her Slutricia, because we know we aren’t going to like her if she makes Pink unhappy) decide to join hands and dance around the room, in that stiff and distant way that people dance when attending dinner parties at the homes of rich people. The glaring doesn’t stop, but at least they aren’t trying to kill each other with random cutlery like the common people often do.

  Then Oliver descends the awkward staircase (at least I think it’s Olivier, that damn back-lighting is making identification a bit pesky) and he approaches the two women who would be lesbians if this were a slightly different movie with an alternate intended resolution. He kneels down and proffers a ring. (Oh my.) Pink smooths the front of her suit (like there’s anything to smooth, being form-fitting and all) and prepares to have jewelry slid on her finger. Instead, poor-decision Olivier chooses option B, which is the evil Slutricia who really didn’t have a purpose in life until this scene.

  Uh oh.

  While Slutricia beams and envisions her name on the jewel-encrusted chateau mailbox, Pink continues glaring in the background. We’re sure that she’s plotting some type of retribution (after all, she nakedly straddled itchy antique furniture so her lover could express his artistic side, and if that isn’t deserving of matrimony then the world is clearly out of balance), we just don’t know how she’ll go about it. In any case, Olivier and Slutricia are most likely doomed.

  Cut to Pink strutting up to yet another rustic shindig, with this particular event inspiring her to wear interestingly-applied eye makeup and wave about a sheer black umbrella that is somewhat useless as far as functional umbrellas go. Oh, look, it appears that Pink is at the wedding of Ollie and Slutty. This should be fun. As we gaze upon the nasty couple exchanging vows, we can’t help but notice something odd in the sky overhead, mainly because that something is a man peddling a bicycle with wings. With a giant red heart dangling from betwixt his pumping legs. Clearly, we are not in Texas.

  We get shots of Slutricia being confused and Pink smirking saucily, then the airborne heart explodes and ooky red wetness splashes down, mostly on the newlyweds but also on various props and lots of other white things and people so we can have some nice visuals. (The shot of the priest looking heavenward whilst covered in sinful red goo is a nice touch.) Pink also gets a splash or two, but you know that girl doesn’t give a hoot about random fluids, hurling the useless parasol away and jumping around in gleeful abandon while the other snooty guests wonder how they can clean themselves without any nearby servants.

  Pink then does a joyous interpretive dance to express her approval of how splendidly the day has been mucked up for the evil power twins at the altar, then she decides to wander off into an un-red part of the estate, where she manages to discover the bicycle rider wearing a sporty little hat and a sexy grin that indicates he knows how to ride more things than just a bicycle. Next thing you know, Pink and Bike Boy are whizzing through the sky atop his flying machine, with Pink demurely sitting side-saddle as B-Boy pumps away and takes her to a place where women who can wear a bustier with confidence are truly appreciated…

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Flo Rida - Whistle

  We start out with a close-up on some woman’s dewy lips as she starts the trademark whistling of the song, then we cut to aerial shots of some seaside village that looks way too expensive for me. Then a helpful revolving sign lets us know that we’re in Acapulco, and my first thoughts are “Do people still go to Acapulco? Did I miss a memo?” But before anybody can text me with an update, we cut to a shot of Flo Rida on top of a cliff and not wearing a shirt, so it appears that Acapulco still has some sights to see.

  Flo Rida is doing something with his hands, and it might be important, but I’m distracted by something to the side of him that appears to be a small house for a very religious dog. (This might get me in trouble, but I’m just calling it as I see it.) But before anybody from the SPCA can give me a call, we zip over to somewhere that has lots of women wearing very skimpy bathing suits. It appears that they like to run around in the lapping waves on a beach, and it also appears that the cameraman capturing all this likes to shove his lens right up into the dripping booties of the energetic nymphets.

  Brief bit with Flo Rida whistling in a manner that indicates he might be notifying his staff that fresh meat is on the horizon. This can be interpreted in a number of ways, but we really don’t have time for that. Then we roll into a montage where Flo Rida is sitting on a bed in a sandy place where a bed shouldn’t be, while a bevy of beauties splash around in salty water and pretend to have small orgasms. (Would it be rude of me to point out that there don’t seem to be any men in the salty place? Because there aren’t any that I can see. Is this a special episode of Xena?)

  But before we can determine the orientation of the guest models, we start getting more aerial shots, this time of fascinating swimming pools expensively-constructed atop the cliffs of Acapulco. Then we zip back to Sapphic Bay where the women can’t stop themselves from splashing water all over their glistening bodies, dress size negative 2. Apparently you are not allowed into the city limits of Acapulco if you actually eat food.

  Next up are some men standing on one of the cliffs and determining how they are going to leap into the sea. This is something that has never appealed to me. Why you wanna schlep your ass up a mountain and then free-fall? Especially with that “oh, and you might mess up and kill yourself” angle. I’m not signing up for that excursion. Ever. But the dumbasses leap for Jesus anyway.

  Brief shot of a woman whistling underwater. That’s real, right?

  This kicks off another montage of Flo Rida doing whatever he’s doing with his hands, random female lips whistling , further examples of how saltwater can make women incredibly horny, and more designer shots of those swimming pools that nobody with a blue-collar job can ever afford. And more scenes with Flo Rida on that misplaced bed, snapping pics of the women with his phone and then posting them. Because that kind of behavior shows real respect for women, doesn’t it?

  Then again, how can a woman demand any respect when she’s wearing a “bathing suit” consisting of a few croutons and some dental floss? So I guess it works both ways. Well, not really. Because when was the last time you watched a male run around in a music video wearing less clothing than the day he was born? That’s what I thought.

  Anyway, we roll into a sequence with one of the Crouton Women riding a horse on the beach. Why she would want to do this, it’s not clear, and I think the video producers must have realized the pointlessness  because we quickly cut to some night-time beach party where everybody is throwing confetti in the air like they just don’t care. We pan through some hanging piñatas, and then we get a gratuitous shot of a woman’s breasts. (There’s a psychological issue worth exploring.) But before we can contact Dr. Freud in the afterlife, we cut back to a random series of more women throwing confetti about, most of them piñata-endowed and all of them showing signs of alcohol consumption.

  Then somebody does something that causes sparks to fall down on the undulating gathering of mostly women, with a sprinkling of now-shirted Flo and a few non-threatening, non-ovulating males who happened to make a wrong turn while drunkenly searching for a cantina that was still open. At first, everybody is waving their arms over their heads like the cast members of “Lost” spotted a crop-dusting plane that might rescue them.

  But before we can re-write the crappy ending of that TV series, somebody jump-starts this weird machine that is colorful but useless, and the women go completely insane with the desire to shove their bootays at the camera. Seriously, that saltwater jacked something up in a big way, because the ladies seem hell-bent on ruling the world with their double bubble.

  Then, due to some clearly poor editing, we shift back to things happening in the daytime. The lusty nymphs are once again doing the splashing thing, Flo Rida is back on that bed that doesn’t make any sense, and we still don’t understand the religious doghouse. Oh wait, it’s nighttime again, on the beach with the confetti  and the Burning Man-tribute machine that whirls around for no reason. One of the Booty Women has reviewed the menu and decided she wants her some Flo Rida for takeout. Flo decides that this is one doggy-bag he’s happy to jump into, and they wander off, presumably to do something with piñatas…

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Calvin Harris – “Feel So Close”

  Okay, I’m not even sure what to make of this one, but I’ll try my best.

  We start out with an image of some graffiti painted on the side of a giant rock that has probably been there for thousands of years, so that’s real environmentally-friendly and all, then we cut to Calvin riding around in a pickup truck, trying to find a decent station on the radio. And frankly, that’s the last thing that I really understand.

  Calvin pulls up to some place where a woman with violated clothing is sitting at a table and sucking down a beverage. She doesn’t look very happy, so she’s probably read the entire script and realizes that everybody is just going to have to wing it to make this work. Then we start jumping all over the place so that we can meet a lot of characters: A teen girl who loves music and dance, some guy doing something with a horse, and a pack of girls who find it necessary to drag an ancient stereo out onto the front lawn so they can practice cheerleading moves. Oh, and there’s something about a possible gang strutting down a clean-cut suburban street where gangs are probably not really appreciated.

  As if that wasn’t confusing enough, we now roll into a montage of these various people continuing to do these things that we don’t understand. The teen girl dances around her bedroom and eventually works her way out into the front yard, the horseman leads his horse to… somewhere that must be very important, and the cheerleaders pose and flip with a determination that could probably save the national economy if they were just focused on the right things.

  We check back in with Calvin, with him still sitting in his pickup and bellowing “I feel so close to you right now” while he watches from afar as the sad woman drinks her soda. Close? Can he not get out of the car and sit in one of the 400 empty chairs around her? I guess it doesn’t matter, because we zip back to check in on Ballet Girl, the Horse Whisperer, the cheerleaders who are too poor to practice in a real gym, and the Inappropriate Gang members who are taking up the whole suburban street and probably interfering with the boring common people who need to home in time for supper.

  Oh, and there’s another group of people that we keep flitting back to, a troupe of young adults (translation: they don’t know what the hell they want out of life yet so they just keep doing what feels good) as they march into some potential Burning Man location, lugging along a boom box and being unnecessarily exuberant. One of the girls in this mess has vibrant green hair. This will probably prove important at some point. Or maybe not.

  More random bits, then we see the Horse Whisperer wandering into what is presumably a bar. (No indication of what he might have done with the horse.) But before we can ask “Hey, is Trigger okay?” another rapid-fire montage kicks off (to accompany the sudden increased tempo of the song, so at least somebody on the production staff was paying attention). Most of this bit concerns the Burning Man wannabees who feel it necessary to climb all over those ancient rocks and revel in the rude graffiti and the fact that they apparently don’t have day jobs where they can actually earn an income.

  Another brief visit to the Horse Whisperer who is still at that bar, where something appears to be on fire but nobody seems to care, then we warp into an encounter between the Inappropriate Gang and the Poor Cheerleaders. Before we can ask “do any of you have a parent that actually cares?” we cut back to Calvin and the Sad Woman, with Calvin finally sitting at her actual table. They look really serious as they talk, so the conversation is probably about surprise pregnancies or global warming.

  Another visit with the Horse Whisperer, who seems to have found a drinking buddy who is just as cryptic as he is, which inspires Whispy to start fiddling with a lariat, creating these spinning rope-circles that he can then jump in and out of while people drink beer and cheer. This right here is probably why I’m not a cowboy. I don’t want to have to do anything fancy with my feet. Then we cut back to the Cheerleader vs. Gang smack-down, where everyone is invested in outperforming one another with flamboyant gymnastics. This did not happen in my high school in Oklahoma.

  Back to Calvin and Sad Girl, with Sad Girl suddenly running toward Calvin’s pickup while loose pieces of paper  that weren’t there in the previous scenes are flying in the air all around her. Ballet Girl wanders into a municipal dump that is apparently located next door, and she begins to do odd things with abandoned Barbie dolls. This kicks off another montage, with us revisiting all of the characters even though nobody raised their hand that they wanted to do so. Rope-spinning, back-flipping, toe-pointing, rock-climbing, you get the idea. Oh, and Sad Girl just might be getting an engagement ring from Calvin. Not clear, but her triumphant pose whilst leaning against his pickup sure seems to indicate such.

  Well, maybe not. Now we have Calvin and Sad driving along in his pickup, and even though she’s singing the words of the song along with him, she still looks very unhappy. (I guess some people can never be satisfied in a place where the wind blows the sand around 24-7.) But before we can ask “why don’t you just leave?” we return to Ballet Girl who has decided it’s completely imperative that she wander out into a busy street and perform pirouettes. Not to be outdone, Horse Whisperer launches into a really dramatic part of his rope-spinning that causes laughing, drunken women to look at him with considerable lust in their eyes. These people really need to get out more.

  And then we roll into a final montage, with one member of the cheerleaders finding love in all the wrong places with one of the gang members (just like Romeo and Juliet!), Sad Girl decides it’s perfectly okay to shove her ass through the passenger window of Calvin’s pickup and wave her hands in the air like she just don’t Nair, Whispy jacks up his rope-spinning (still no word on the horse), the Burning Man folk don’t really do anything worth reporting, and Ballet Girl continues to dance her way to stardom despite the sand and the lack of an audience.

  And I’m voting for her to win. You?

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Adele - “Set Fire To The Rain”

  Note: This was recorded live at the Royal Albert Hall. Adele supposedly suffers from tremendous stage fright, but you sure can’t tell from this stunning performance. However, if you study the video carefully, you can still find odd subliminal messages scattered about, and I’m here to help you find them. (But seriously, the jokes are pretty lame with this entry because I was too mesmerized by her singing. You’ll probably have a better time if you just scroll down and click to watch the video…)

0:03  Happy people have clearly been drinking.

0:07  Somebody in the front row has a question about Mongolian stir-fry.

0:16  A thermonuclear device has been hidden near the drummer.

0:24  Adele has arranged for a solar eclipse to take place directly behind her, which is very thoughtful of her.

0:33  Apparently they grow giant mushrooms on the ceiling of Royal Albert Hall. Who knew?

0:38  Too many tequila shots can lead to inappropriate behavior.

0:45  Why  is Karl Rove here?

0:54  Possibly the longest neck ever on a human being.

1:01  Somebody got a really good deal on lampshades at Pottery Barn.

1:15  Unfortunate lipstick choice. Poor thing.

1:28  Seriously, the alcohol must really be flowing in this place.

1:39  The backup singers appear to be practicing the backstroke, unaware that they are not in a swimming pool at the moment.

2:03  Rude audience member is either double-flipping someone off or having a small orgasm.

2:10  Gratuitous cleavage shot, even in an Adele video. What has the world come to?

2:18  Okay, those backup vocalists are far too invested in whatever it is that they are doing with their arms.

2:29  Why do we keep seeing this same woman in the audience as she sings along? If she’s somebody important, why is she in the back row? And who did that to her hair?

2:34  I think I saw this in a porn movie once. (Research purposes, of course.)

3:00  I still don’t understand why those backup singers have to be so energetic.

3:17  And now we have a small UFO landing off to the right of the stage. You certainly get the bonus plan when you buy an Adele ticket.

3:31  This does not look like the face of a woman that you should irritate. Ever.

3:36  Is that man wearing clogs?

3:43  Adele confirms her album’s world-wide ranking.

3:57  Great. Adele’s voice blew a circuit-breaker again.


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