Danielle Staub, Lori Michaels - “Real Close”

  Editor’s Note: This video was kindly (or perhaps cruelly?) suggested by my buddy Laura. I normally don’t mess with “TV clips” of live songs, but this one is truly astonishing and I couldn’t help it. Danielle Staub was supposedly on that “Real Housewives of New Jersey” show on Bravo. I’ve never watched the thing, but after getting a load of this mess, I probably never will. Enjoy.

  Right away we know we’re in trouble, because there’s a quick glimpse of the cover art for the single, and it looks like Danielle is trying to snap Lori’s neck. No explanation is given as to why Danielle might be trying to take someone’s life, perhaps this is just how they say “hello” in Jersey, but I’m going to guess that Lori made the fatal mistake of using up all the hair color in the house. Or maybe Lori was just trying to back out of the mess that’s about to take place on stage.

  Then the music starts, and it’s a crappy loop of peppy but sappy disco, so they didn’t even bother to hire real musicians to record this thing. We see some queen of a dancer waving his arms like his panties are on fire, with Danielle in the background, hidden behind two muscular guys who are studying their shoes. If only she had just stayed there, perhaps things wouldn’t have gone so pathetically wrong.

  The queen finally stops flailing and drops to the floor in a sad split-squat move, which signals the muscle duo to break formation and skip to the front of the stage, where they do a few hand flutters of their own, followed by an odd move where the bigger guy pretends to “swallow” the other guy with his body. Or something. I really don’t know what that was. If this had been filmed in Arkansas, they would have been arrested.

  Then the lighter of the pair runs halfway off the stage, then turns and races back, flinging himself into the bigger guy’s arms. Big guy then lifts Little Guy over his head and then twirls him around like a pinwheel. I kid you not. Little Guy makes sure to spread his legs wide open, showing his wares to the world. (In the background, we can see that Queen Guy’s panties are still on fire. Or maybe he’s signaling to the hot-dog vendor that he’d like a foot-long. Don’t care, really.)

  The twirling duo eventually stop that mess and run to the back of the stage, joining Queen Guy and Danielle, then the four of them strut forward in a supposedly choreographed dance move. (That click you just heard was Janet Jackson turning off her TV in disgust.) Then Danielle opens her mouth so we can finally hear her sing.

  And the entire Eastern seaboard immediately snaps off and plunges into the ocean out of pure shame. Holy cow she’s bad. To make the pain stop, the muscle duo starts doing calisthenics and boxer-kicks, while Queen Guy prances about in dramatic anguish, begging St. Divine to reach down from Heaven and snatch him up. This does not happen soon enough.

  Danielle, not noticing that people are screaming and running out of the audience, keeps singing. The muscle guys cover their jewels with their hands, pretending that it’s a street dance move, but really trying to block Danielle’s piercing wail from making them sterile. Amidst all this, with Danielle trying to wriggle her hips seductively but looking like she’s got a gas bubble, we get a close-up of her face, and we learn two things. One, yes, those sounds ARE coming out of her mouth, and two, that face is NOT the one she was born with.

  The camera cuts around a little bit, and we can see that the dancers are either really dumb or only learned their routine about twenty seconds ago. They keep looking at each other to see if they are doing the right thing. Well, the duo keeps looking at each other. The Queen is twirling and flitting so much that he often is nothing more than a blur of motion and glitter.

  Some benevolent sound tech behind the scenes takes pity on us, and actually turns the music up a little, trying to drown out Danielle’s gaseous expulsions. Sadly, she will not be denied her moment in the spotlight, and screams even louder.

  At some unknown cue, one that most likely has nothing to do with the song or artistry or even sense, the dancers close in on Danielle. (Perhaps they are also bodyguards, ready to deflect produce projectiles that should be incoming at any moment?) The slender muscle guy bends over like he’s about get some lovin’, but since Danielle is directly behind him, I think he might be a little confused. The bigger muscle guy is pretending to stare at Danielle with absolute lust and devotion, but his eyes keep flickering to his proffering Cirque du Soleil partner. (The Queen, meanwhile, is pirouetting with such gusto that Dorothy and Toto just shot by.)

  Then the quartet kind of stumbles around the stage, not even pretending to know the dance moves any more, although at least the big muscle guy still remembers that he’s supposed to want Danielle’s body more than anything in the world. His method acting? He stares at Danielle’s butt with fake intensity and holds his hand to his jaw, as if in shock and awe at the mesmerizing power of her derriere.

  Then there’s another predetermined signal, and now the three guys are running around Danielle in a circle, reenacting the evolution of man from swamp glop to Wall Street. Danielle raises her hands over her head, and she’s really good at that, so maybe she has a shot at an actual career holding up round numbers at wrestling events. (The Queen continues to channel Diana Ross, getting it eerily right, almost to the point where you expect him to shove Mary Wilson off the stage at any moment.)

  Now we have the muscle guys lifting Danielle high in the air (the Queen tries to help, but really, he’s just there to look pretty), with her looking far too comfortable at having the hand of a total stranger shoved up her butt. And this, apparently, is the signal for Lori to come out and pick up the song. She’s sporting the same basic wardrobe as Danielle, only there was a dryer mishap and her shirt is too short.

  The muscle guys finally land the Danielle plane, so she and Lisa stand next to each other and try to gryate their hips to the beat, but I guess they weren’t really paying attention in music class that day. They trade vocals, if you can call it that, then all five of them start acting like they can’t get enough of each other’s overpoweringly hot bodies. It’s completely believable, especially when the Queen does a few high-kicks of lust and only seems to be interested in touching himself.

  Oh, and there’s hair-whipping by all three of the divas, in case such things interest you.

  We wrap it up with Lori and the muscle duo doing some more half-hearted choreography, which includes fist-pumping, because it’s not really a dance routine until you do that. Danielle and the Queen quietly (and thankfully) just stand in the background as the song fades, completely forgetting what they are supposed to be doing now. Hopefully, the audience will forget that they ever saw this. Because they’re going to need therapy if they don’t.

  Whew. Made it through. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to for a while there.

  But hey, if YOU see something like this that really needs my personal interpretation, send me a Facebook email or slap something on my wall. Because we have to know that these things are out there, and we have to be prepared. We’re in this together, right?


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Katy Perry - “Teenage Dream”

So we’re in a convertible, cruising down some nameless highway. It’s probably in California, because as Katy gleefully sang in her last hit, every other state in the country totally sucks. Katy’s hair is blowing in the wind, looking all pretty and everything, but that girl is going to need some de-tangler, stat. Right as I think that, Katy starts pawing at her tresses, so she’s already got some birds and road debris caught up in there.

She calms down for a few seconds, and sings softly without really moving, so we can see that she has some nice designer sunglasses on. They probably cost more than my house. But she looks pretty hot, which is the whole point, right? Doesn’t matter what the words are.

Oh look, her companion, the driver, is pretty hot as well, all scruffy and gazing at her with barely concealed passion. Which is a nice way to be gazed at, but really, shouldn’t he be watching the road?

Then we cut to a gym somewhere, so the driver can show us that he has other talents, like the ability to take off his shirt while squatting on the floor, and can wrap his own hands in a very tattered Ace bandage. And he can bounce around on his feet while staring at a punching bag, using basically the same look that he gave Katy back in the car, so there might be some unresolved anger issues.

Speaking of the convertible, we’re back in it, with the camera lingering on the car keys dangling from the dashboard, just so we can know they do have permission to be driving this car and didn’t just steal it. Katy’s suddenly very tired, probably from all that wind drag, and is laying back in her seat, singing some more. Then she decides she’s not all that sleepy and starts pawing on the driver, warbling about going all the way tonight. She frisky.

The beat of the song really kicks in, along with Katy’s libido, and the driver is inspired to floor it, so they can hurry up and get somewhere that Katy can satisfy her burning needs. The increased velocity causes Katy to shove her head up into the wind stream again, so I guess she didn’t learn anything the first time she did that.

As startled insects bounce off Katy’s fluttering eyelids, she spies some folks in a nearby red truck. They appear to be bellowing rednecks, so I’m not sure that we should be having anything to do with them. Katy agrees and throws her arm in the air in defiance. This causes another convertible to come along, apparently occupied by The Village People. (Why else would one of them be wearing an Indian headdress?)

Katy likes these folks better, so she alternates between reaching toward their car with welcoming abandon and groping her own driver’s crotch. This goes on for a while until somebody reminds The Village People that they don’t matter anymore, and they drive off.

Now we’re in a parking lot near the ocean, with lots of people who didn’t have enough clothes to complete their outfits or mistakenly thought they were attending a college lecture. Katy high-fives her driver, because they’re still the cutest couple. Then they flirt for a bit, happy and carefree because they’re young and don’t have any credit-card debt.

Then the driver spies something on the back of Katy’s neck, probably road kill, which inspires him to flop her on the hood of a car and give her a few smooches while she undulates and waves her arms over her head.

This inspires them to run to a nearby hotel, where apparently there are some cleaning-staff issues, because the bed in their room hasn’t been made. This doesn’t seem to be a problem, as the driver proceeds to hurl Katy on the bed and they both start ripping their clothes off in a frenzy. (Maybe they only paid for one hour.)

So now we’re cutting back and forth between the couple as they dance by the beach and have sex on the beach-themed bed. For added entertainment during this montage, the crowd in the parking lot decides it’s really hot out here, so everybody starts ripping off various bits of clothing (like it was really necessary, considering how skimpy everything was to begin with) and running into the ocean.

This three-way goes on for a while, with the dancing, the stripping and running and splashing, and the very agile sex in the cheesy motel room. We get to see Katy’s panties, the odd bruises on the driver, and the startlingly large package on some dude in a Speedo. I guess in California everybody is really horny and really well-endowed. That seems to be the motif.

I guess a bell rang and the happy people had to get back to class, because we suddenly see Katy, her hair nicely-coiffed despite her adventures, standing in a school hallway and fiddling with her locker. She happens to spy the driver punching his bag in the conveniently-nearby gym, and she has to stop and stare. He pummels, she drools, fingering her locker door. Then she gently closes her locker, and of course the driver can hear this tiny click over the sounds of his huffing and pounding. They gaze at one another with lust and devotion.

Then we wrap things up in a parking lot. It might be the same one from earlier, but it’s hard to tell because it’s now dark and there are distracting elements like guys on skateboards and somebody on a cross-country bike. Oh, and several girls exploring their lesbian side, popping each other’s bubble gum with their lips and exchanging delicate kisses. It’s nice that Katy doesn’t judge her friends and welcomes all.

Somebody hands out road flares for the rousing final dance number, which is choreographed to indicate that everybody got crabs while running on that beach. Lots of jumping and drink-throwing. And intimate popsicle-sucking. And hair-flipping. These people are really talented.

We end with Katy and the driver going at it again in a swimming pool. This proves that they must really be in love, because chlorine burns, right? If you can tolerate chemical abrasion, you were meant to be together...

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Culture Club - “Karma Chameleon”

Well, we start out with an opening title of “Mississippi-1870”, and right away you know this is going to be a very realistic video because there were so many opportunities for drag queens back in that day. We’re staring at a river, but I have my doubts if it’s the Mississippi because it only looks about 10-feet wide and ain’t no riverboat gonna get up in that.

The camera pans back and we have an elaborately staged scene with lots of extras dashing about, apparently preparing for the arrival of the questionable riverboat. Everybody’s wearing period clothing, so they’re going for realism, but the fact that the band members still have their modern-day haircuts sort of throws things off a bit. Nice touch with the old guy playing the harmonica, just as we hear that instrument on the soundtrack, but it’s very clear that gramps had never seen a harmonica before he walked on the set.

Then, lo and behold, the camera runs across Boy George, dressed in an outfit that is not from any period, perched uncomfortably on top of what might be a tarp-covered Buick. He starts singing as the camera zooms in, and Boy makes sure that he artfully turns his head so we can see he did his own makeup, apparently using a watercolor set.

We see some guy in a top hat (oh wait, all the guys are in top hats, except for the poor folks lugging steamer trunks around for no apparent reason). Anyway, this guy is nimbly working the crowd, discreetly stealing gold and jewels from the clueless people who are just trying to look attractive and ignore the fact that mosquitoes are eating them alive and that brown rivers smell very bad in the summer. There’s one lady who was probably the original inspiration for the phrase “she could eat an apple through a fence”. Her dress is pretty, though, so she’ll be fine.

Boy George does a nice feminine move with his fingerless-gloved hand, which causes everybody to think “hey, we got us a drag queen on that there Buick, let’s go closer!” So they do, marching up to surround Boy, who was obviously born for the spotlight, even if that spotlight is a kerosene lamp held by an urchin wearing a potato sack. Folks are all jigging a bit to the mesmerizing beat, including some out-of-place showgirls who got fired in Tupelo, probably because they have dead parrots in their hair, and are looking for jobs.

Brief close-up on one of the showgirls, who makes it very obvious that she doesn’t really like the song, but she’s going to whip her skirt around anyway. Cut to Natalie Cole and Lyle Lovett clapping their hands, then two blonde-headed boys shoving a body in a wicker basket. (Was that last bit a subtle reference to Boy duct-taping his manly bits before a show?)

Another shot of the guy who can’t play the harmonica, followed by the other band members grooving while standing near one of the showgirls, who might just be Joan Collins. Then lots of shots of extras proving that they know the words to the chorus and/or not realizing that the camera is on them and doing stupid stuff. Meanwhile, evil top hat man is snatching jewels left and right as his victims stare at Boy George and his mesmerizing performance.

Oh, and there’s one guy in a straw cowboy hat that is clearly listening to a different song, and a little girl kicking her legs in musical abandonment, her tiny feet, which probably should have stayed under her dress, clad in those “jelly shoes” which won’t even be invented for another 100 years or so. Then again, neither will Boy George’s glitter makeup.

And more shots of the crowd in a religious fervor over Boy’s dreadlock drag and hand choreography. It’s starting to get a little boring, so thank God the damn riverboat finally pulls up. Everybody is very excited about the arrival, with the chorus girls waving what looks like the national flag of Ghana over their heads.

Then people start loading onto the boat, with an extended shot of that one irritated show girl who is still not happy to be here, stomping along with a pout and getting her flag dirty. Oh, look, there’s another unhappy woman, in a yellow dress and glaring at her man like he ain’t gettin’ nothin’ for dinner. Why are these people so angry? They get to go on a ride now, and no longer have to watch a British pop star sing the same four words over and over while flipping his braids and turning to face cameras that aren’t really there.

Anyway, the ship sets off, and we now have a poker game going on. The other band members are playing, as well as evil Top Hat man, while several ladies in pretty hats pretend to be completely interested in the action. Boy George is apparently not allowed to play, and is, in fact, forced to stand outside the room and look in a window while playing the harmonica. (Guess they finally fired that first guy and Boy is picking up some extra money.) I don’t know why they are making Boy-Girl stand out there, but it IS 1870, so there may have been some compliance issues.

The poker game is fairly uninteresting (how many shots of playing cards can a person stand?), so we’re actually happy when evil Top Hat Man finally wins, even if he cheated. The band members are not so thrilled, however, with one of them even smoking a cigar to show his displeasure.

Very quick shot of one of the ladies making a startled expression. (You may even have to pause the video to see the women on both sides of her casting glances that one shouldn’t eat the broccoli casserole if they can’t handle the after affects.) Then lots of folks are realizing that personal items have been snatched away, and the angry crowd races off to seek revenge on evil Top Hat Man.

And this revenge means making the man take off his stylish jacket and then walk the gangplank. He hits the water, and this puts everyone in a very festive mood. The chorus girls jump on top of the cabin and do a nice routine, showing us their frilly panties. Then everybody else decides, in a very progressive move for 19th century rural Mississippi, that if the nice drag queen can’t come inside, we’ll just go out there and join him on the deck. And so they do, with the first known gay pride riverboat parade taking place as they sail down the river and the song fades...

Red, gold and green, people. Say it with me. A hundred times.


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