Saturday, January 27, 2007

#35 - A Literalist Deconstruction of Bon Jovi

A Literalist Deconstruction of Bon Jovi

7/19/04 (#35)

Being a literalist is hard. We are a nation of embellishment and hyperbole: If we try three times to get someone on the phone, it will be recounted as "I tried to reach them a dozen times"; if we enjoy a delicious meal, we proclaim it to be "the greatest meal we have ever eaten"; if we are eager to attend a particular event, we claim to be willing to "give my right arm to be able to go." All of these things are confusing to a literalist, especially if the answering machine has only 3 messages, the meal in question is from McDonalds and the must-see show is Blink-182.

But recently, I experienced the coup de grace, a collection of overstatements so egregious that it seemed like parody. (Sadly, it was not.) It was a schmaltzy song on the radio called "I'll be there for you", penned by hair-band legend Jon Bon Jovi. This song would make a literalist's brain hurt, for reasons I will specify.

Let's start at the beginning:

I guess this time you're really leaving
I heard your suitcase say goodbye

Personally, I find talking cookie jars to be silly, but a talking suitcase? Does it say "hello" when you open it? I think if you are dating someone who wastes money on a talking suitcase, you should make sure it has fresh batteries with HOPES that it might say goodbye.

And as my broken heart lies bleeding
You say true love it's suicide

This couplet was less an offense to literalism than proof that Jon Bon Jovi's high school composition teachers must have rolled their eyes every time this junior varsity lothario submitted a creative writing assignment. I have consulted a panel of language experts, and they agree that this is as much clich� as can possibly be fit into any 13 word sentence. (In fact, this beat the previous 13 word record, set in 1981 by Kenny Loggins.)

You say you've cried a thousand rivers
And now you're swimming for the shore
You left me drowning in my tears
And you won't save me anymore

Let's take a look at the physical logistics of this statement: According to kitchen conversion charts, 96 drops make up a teaspoon. It then takes 96 teaspoons to make a pint. 8 pints to make a gallon. Thus, 96 x 96 x 8 = 73,728 tears to make one gallon of tears. I have been unable to find a statistic about the water volume of a river, but I was able to find that an in-ground backyard swimming pool contains +/- 24,000 gallons of water, or 176,942,700 tears.

Now that's one swimming pool, and I think we'd all agree that if you were to drain a swimming pool, it would make for a rather pathetic river. But I'll humor Bon Jovi and assume that's the river size that he is documenting in his song. His objet d'amour "cried a thousand rivers"---which by my calculation would be 1,769,472,000,000 tears. (1 trillion, 769 billion, 472 million tears.) If this is true, then the following facts must also be true:

  1. Based on average human tear production formulas, she must have been crying non-stop since she was 4 years of age, and she's currently 811 years old.
  2. This person must be suffering from serious dehydration
Now I'm praying to God you'll give me one more chance, girl

I bet God gets annoyed with this type of late-in-the-fourth-quarter consultation. Perhaps if God had been on the speed-dial a few billion tears ago, we might have been saved from these sappy sentiments.

I'll be there for you
These five words I swear to you
When you breathe I want to be the air for you
I'll be there for you

Apparently Jon is completely ignorant of the working of the human respiratory system, because that statement is patently illogical. I consulted with a team of internal medicine specialists, and each assured me that they have never encountered a pair of lungs capable of inhaling Jon Bon Jovi in order to replenish red blood cells. (Though several did note that his first hit, "Runaway", was a moderately effective method of increasing blood flow.)

I'd live and I'd die for you
Steal the sun from the sky for you
Words can't say what love can do
I'll be there for you

Literalists have always had an issue with the phrase "I would die for you", or as they say in some parts of the country, "I would die 4 U". Just once, to that cheesy profession of the so-called seriousness of one's commitment, I'd like to hear the recipient of the assurance say, "Really? Prove it."

But the real issue here is the "steal the sun from the sky" line---where to begin?

  1. How are you going to get to the sun in order to steal it? Here's what Mr. Bon Jovi would have found had he done the astronomical research:
    • NASA has no plans for a Sun Mission
    • When NASA has a sun mission, it seems unlikely that Jon Bon Jovi will be among the astronauts. Great job at conquering the world of hair bands, Jon, and things seem to be going well for you with the acting, but space travel? I think it will come down to you or Homer Simpson, and he has NASA experience.
    • If by chance you are able to complete the training and become an astronaut, I think NASA is going to give you the 4F when you announce, "I'm only doing this so I can steal the sun for my baby."
    • Our universe revolves around the sun. If you move the sun to New Jersey, then Mercury is going to smash directly into Argentina.
  2. If you get the sun, where are you going to keep it? I have scoured the container shelves at Target, and I have yet to see one that says, "Perfect for picnics, closet storage, or smuggling massive 30,000,000 degrees Fahrenheit stars." (And don't get smart with me that it's 30,000,000 degrees at the core, but only 11,000 degrees at the surface: The average oven mitt protects to only 450 degrees. That means you would need to wear 24 oven mitts, and since each would have to be successively larger than the next, by the time you got to 7 gloves you'd already have hands the size of those foam fingers that fans wave at sporting events; at 14, your appendages would be the size of Mickey Mouse's paws in the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade; 24? Your dexterity would be such that doing anything would feel tantamount to picking up an espresso bean while wearing a catcher's mitt.)
  3. Where is the recipient of the sun going to keep the damn thing? "Gee honey, you look tired, what's wrong?" "Well Mom, I haven't slept a wink since Jon gave me that $#%& cancerous orb of death. I put it in the closet, but it burned up the closet. It's too bad I no longer have those one trillion tears, as I could dump them on it like a pan of water on the campfire coals."
And finally, if words can't say what love can do, why are you trying to tell us anyway?
I know you know we've had some good times
Now they have their own hiding place
I can promise you tomorrow
But I can't buy back yesterday

Well, it's encouraging to see he can be flummoxed by some laws of physics. I would have thought that if he could steal the sun, he would also be able to buy back yesterday. (Though he never clarifies if it is a metaphysical impossibility or if he simply lacks the funds. I have never shopped for Yesterday, but it's easy to imagine that it's exorbitantly overpriced.)(I checked on Ebay, but I wasn't able to find a listing.)

And Baby you know my hands are dirty
But I wanted to be your valentine
I'll be the water when you get thirsty, baby
When you get drunk, I'll be the wine

Did he not state earlier that he wants to be the air she breathes? Now he wants to be the water when she's thirsty? Despite intake through the same orifice, the human body processes air and water with completely different organs, and strictly one at a time. Ever notice you can't drink water and breathe simultaneously? The same is true for partaking of multi-elemental Bon Jovi---the gag reflex would be too strong.

And I wasn't there when you were happy
I wasn't there when you were down
I didn't mean to miss your birthday, baby
I wish I'd seen you blow those candles out

So let me get this straight, he wasn't there when she was happy, and he wasn't there when she was down. Frankly, I wonder how he's going to notice if she actually does leave.
Oh, that's right, the talking suitcase.
Maybe that dorky luggage was a good investment after all.



©2004 wpreagan

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