A new contender for Worst Music Video of All Time

Sometimes, a book / music video / B-movie about swamp monsters can be so Bad, and so low-budget, that it circles back to Good.

This is not one of those times.

Watch this music video, and think about it. Then let’s talk, because this video raises all kinds of Serious Philosophical Questions.

Question No. 1: Is this woman a one-hit wonder, or are there more gems out there, waiting to be discovered?

Lisa Gail has a website and some kind of album, or at least seven songs you can listen to and buy with REAL MONIES, if your monies are able to travel over the Series of Tubes.

Question No. 2: Is it possible to watch this entire thing, start to finish?

Though it was a challenge, and I cannot recommend it if you have heart problems, I did it.

Question No. 3: Sound on or sound off?

Sound on.

Question No. 4: Has any mortal listened to Lisa Gail’s other songs, to determine they, also, have a 2nd degree black belt in awesomesauce?

I, personally, as in me, have not subjected my ears to her other snippets of song-like substances.  If you do so, please give us the word in the comment section. That would be a public service.

Question No. 5: How in God’s green earth did she get all those men in cowboy boots?

This is the biggie, for me, right up there with “What existed before the Big Bang?” and “How can we truly know wrong from right without reading 4,923 pages of nonsense from Immanuel Kant about the categorical imperative?” and “If Snooki actually reproduces, will that cause the galaxy to implode?”

Sure, I could see any random singer being able to lasso her boyfriend / husband / son / neighbor kid into putting on Wranglers, cowboy boots and a ten-gallon hat. However, these men are not all related to her, or married to her. It would be a stretch to call them professionals, but they aren’t a random group of people she was cooking grits for one morning.

There are three possibilities: (1) Lisa Gail is famous and successful down in Texas, and these men are volunteer fans, just like 30 Seconds to Mars has rabid fans who guest star in videos and such, (2) Lisa Gail spent a bunch of her own monies to hire the cutest local “models” and “dancers” she could possibly find or (3) these were the manliest men in the feed store on Sunday afternoon and she somehow has blackmail photos on all of them.

Question No. 6: Does she have the self-awareness to understand the irony of her lyrics?

There’s nothing wrong with being a singer, actor, author, director, politician, professor or TV anchor who isn’t some kind of supermodel. I actually prefer people with some character, and talent, rather than pure eye candy, because the eye candy types expect to skate by with no talent at all, and that gets boring real quick.

HOWEVER: If you are a singer making music videos, it’s one thing to be young and hot while you sing this sort of thing. It’s another thing to be older and hot and sing this sort of thing. You can even be uglier than a three-horned toad lizard, as in Lyle Lovett, but if you’ve got talent and charm, hey, it’ll work for you. You can have a long career and perhaps even get hitched to Julia flipping Roberts, at least for a weekend or three.

This is a polite way of saying, “Honey, if I was your man — and I definitely would not be, not if you were a billionaire who didn’t mind if I had six supermodel mistresses on the side — it’d be hard for me to look at YOU for three seconds.”

Also, the real Three Second Rule that every person knows is this: “Anything you drop on the floor for less than three seconds is still sanitary and kosher and fine.” After three seconds, you slip it to the dog. Except I would not slip this video to my dog, as the Hound of the Baskervilles has better taste.

5 thoughts on “A new contender for Worst Music Video of All Time

  1. Pardon my French, but are you trying to fuckin’ kill me??? And I thought Madonna’s big hair was bad in the 80’s…
    Those have to be her son’s high school or college friends. Just…just… yuck!

    Like

  2. Ah come, didn’t you find the melding of atonal vocals and arrhythmic dancing cowboys (that chubby one who had to watch is feet and still managed to screw up a simple two-step is HOT!) to be charming?

    This did of course lead me on an internet quest to find out the true origin of the Three Second Rule. Turns out there is a Three Second Rule in basketball and it’s also the standard for safe driving. And of course, the dropped food three second rule, but with dogs as large and crafty as mine, food rarely makes it to the floor in my house.

    So I tried a little experiment. I stared at the old man for the count of three (one Mississippi…). He said, “What?” I looked away, stared again. He said, “What did I do?” Tried it again. He said, “Damn it, it’s not fault. I didn’t do it!” So I gave him a five count. He said, “Look, I’m sorry, honey. Want to go out to dinner tonight?”

    Maybe three seconds only works on cowboys. Five seconds are required for other men.

    Like

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