Note: This one was suggested by a blog visitor. I’m not sure if he was serious or just trying to torture me, but I gave it my best…
We start out with a shot of some folks playing pool, followed by little urchin boys telling secrets on some street, and then we finally cut to George and the guys playing a gig. Almost right away George is shoving his mouth up in the camera, with all those teeth, a signature move that I had mentally blocked since the last time I had seen him perform back in the day.
The lovely ladies in the audience don’t seem to care, rocking to the beat with lust and naughtiness on their minds. And even some of the guys seem to be lost in a frenzy of… well, I’m not sure what. They’re just really happy, let’s leave it at that for now.
Cut to George walking down a street, because no one’s ever done that in a video. We don’t know where he’s going, the only clue being that he’s carrying his guitar case. We also see those urchin boys again, whispering and glancing at George furtively. I think we’re supposed to believe they’re in awe of George’s bad boniness. But they could just as easily be saying things like “Hey, Mikey, that’s the man that’s always asking me if I like comic books in the shower at the YMCA!”
In fact, the whole length of the street seems to be filled with young uns. No adults. Are we trapped in a giant daycare? Is Big Bird going to walk out of an alley and quiz us about letters and numbers?
Back to the pool hall, where George arrives with his instrument, and spies somebody already there, sitting at a table with his own guitar, a man I should probably know but don’t. Whoever he is, he’s apparently the Big Kahuna in this place, with lots of people standing around him and waiting to do his bidding or get him a chili dog.
George doesn’t care. He marches up and flops his guitar case on one of the pool tables. (Guess those people are done playing now.) George opens the case and takes out… a pool stick. (I guess they have a different concept of proper luggage usage in The South.) Big Daddy at the kingly table thinks this is really funny, and reaches for his own stick.
Shots of George powdering his hands and Big Daddy really enjoying wearing his white jacket. They both approach a pool table, with George smoking a cigar the size of a Buick, and they commence to play.
Brief respite as we cut back to the band playing its gig, with George and his teeth and the ovulating sister girls in the audience. We don’t learn anything new or different, so I’m thinking somebody’s already making crap up to fill out the video. Just a guess.
Checking in back at the pool challenge, we learn that Big Daddy is pretty dang good. Which is probably why he gets to wear the fancy jacket and the cowboy hat. George is standing around with an attitude since he can’t even play what with Big Daddy really showing off. The rest of the crowd is mesmerized by Big Daddy and his stick dominance, so they probably don’t get out much.
Then we see some guy nod to another really old guy, and old guy turns and goes into the next room which turns out to be a gym where people are boxing. What the hell? I guess I don’t get out much either, because I’ve never been to a bar that featured both pool tables and boxing rings. Anyway, old guy makes his way to another old guy, who is standing next to a woman with barely-restrained breasts. Old Guy 1 whispers something to Old Guy 2.
The people in the this video are entirely too secretive. Just sayin.
Old Guy 2 and Tramp 1 head on over to the pool room, where Big Daddy has just racked up a new game. OG2 throws a wad of money on the balls (that’s a line I never imagined typing) and then he and Trampolina take a seat. (Well, she can’t really sit down without the emancipation of nipples, so she just sort of leans against the bench.)
Big Daddy and George Daddy do their thing, with nifty images of a clock spinning so us slower folk can understand that a lot of time passes. We also have images of big bills being snatched off the table, so somebody’s got a nice revenue stream. Oh, and there’s shots of some underling sliding those little round discs on a string in that old-timey way they did when people were too drunk to just write numbers down on paper.
This goes on for a long time. People play pool. A lot.
Finally, George Daddy runs the table and wins a game, ending with a shot that knocks his final ball and then the eight-ball into the same pocket. This is nice and all, but really, not that big a deal since it seems that George Daddy lost the 47 games before that. No matter, there’s happiness about, with one of the urchins who has been watching the marathon (do they not ask for ID in this place?) racing outside to slap congratulatory hands with other urchins, all of them wearing trashy and ugly clothes.
Back inside the house of sin and boxing, George Daddy keeps up his winning streak, getting all cocky and prancing around. (But, dude, you lost the first 47... Oh, screw it.) Big Daddy finally goes to sit next to Old Guy 2, all ashamed. George Daddy makes his final shot, with the eight-ball hanging on the edge of a pocket without dropping. No problem. George holds his cigar out over the filthy floor and taps it, and the thudding weight of the heavy ashes causes the eight-ball to commit suicide and leap into the pocket.
Really?
The crowd of homely urchins out on the street roars.
I don’t.
Click Here to Watch the Video on YouTube.
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