Trains, blades, and grenades

Pop music is ridiculous, that is science fact. Anyone who does not realize this is either completely devoid of taste or is a 14 year old girl. I know you are thinking that those two are the same but that’s just mean. Seriously, don’t make me come over there and hug you, blackheart. Naturally, it takes something exceptionally awful for me to consider it worth mentioning. To put things in perspective, I have not only sung along to several Ke$ha songs, but I have also joined into a choreographed dance sequence to one of them. I also respect her enough to put the dollar sign in her name. Yes, my bar is that low. So when I heard Grenade, I felt it was my responsibility to speak out. Bruno Mars’ Grenade is the creepiest popular song I have heard since Clay Aiken’s Invisible.

This would normally be the point where I immediately jump into an analysis of Grenade but I realize that a few (read: all) of you may not be up to speed with the creepiness of Invisible. There are dozens of adjectives you will think of when someone mentions Clay Aiken and I am fairly certain that not a single one will be "creepy". Let’s just take a line of his song, out of context, to illustrate my point.

If I was invisible
Then I could just watch you in your room
|If I was invisible
I’d make you mine tonight

You know who also was invisible, watched people in their room, and made them theirs?


Yeah, and his dream in life was to murder children.

Now that we are all on the same page, let’s take a look at Grenade.

Clearly the song is trying to remind everyone of the time(s) they fell in love with someone who did not return the feeling. That’s fine. That’s normal. What is not normal, is being consumed by an obsessive feeling of ownership because of your love. Obsessive and ownership are two terms very rarely used when describing love on account of them not being very applicable, yet Mr. Mars (if that is his real name) is asking us to buy in to his frighteningly twisted impression of love. Don’t take my word for it, take his:

I’d catch a grenade for you

As an expression, this channels the comradeship of soldiers willing to give their lives for their fellow soldiers. Literally, one might assume he is willing to have sex with an ugly member of his partner’s preferred sexuality to protect them from it. Let’s assume it is the former.

Throw my hand on a blade for you

Ok, now we are getting creepy. It sounds romantic with the whole "I’d get stabbed for you" vibe, except that the hand on a blade was specifically mentioned. Have you ever heard that expression before? Of course not. Can you imagine a situation where putting your hand on a blade would be a logical action? The best I have come up with is grabbing the blade of a person threatening you with a knife, which in my experience only happens in domestic disturbances when the knife grabber is the disturber.

I’d jump in front of a train for you

In a previous line, we already established he would die for his love, so this clearly cannot be simple repetition. No, this is a much more twisted sentiment. Here he is saying that he would kill himself in an obvious suicidal method to punish his love with guilt stricken nightmares.

The rest of the song pretty much follows this pattern with a catchy beat. Clearly it paints the love interest as the villain and asks us to root for the narrator. The only problem is that the narrator is clearly a self absorbed psychopath. You know what normal people would do for their lovers? Write sappy poetry, mention sweet nothings, send pictures of lolcats, possibly draw pictures of butterflies singing rainbows amongst the stars, send flowers, etc. Your list may differ but I think it is fair to say that death was not on it. Yet this song has somehow managed to become popular enough that I can envision crowds of people thinking love should be expressed through self pain. There is one person who can reverse this horribly depressing life view, but I am afraid of the side effects.


He makes bubblegum look like brussel sprouts.

Bruno Mars, the Biebs is on you. The following Jersey Shore picture, however, is on me.


Creeping and grenades, how topical.

I would apologize for that picture but if I need to see it, so do you.

Your pal,