I’m going to do something very unusual on this blog today.
Some of you may be familiar with my “Why Music Sucks Now” posts, but while this post will focus on music, it will not be focused on horrible music. Actually the song and artist I’m discussing today are both amazing.
You are familiar, I am sure, with George Strait. I am sure you’re also familiar with his hit song, “I Can Still Make Cheyenne.”
I guess the video won’t play through the blog because UMG is a bunch of ninnies, but click on through and familiarize yourselves.
I have a mind-bubbling theory about this song. It occurred to me whilst driving down the road the other day, and hit me so hard I almost had a wreck.
Here’s the theory:
Only the first thirty seconds of this song actually happened. Everything after is a fictional representation of an imagined ‘worst case’ scenario that played out in her mind immediately after picking up the phone.
So let’s break the song down before we go on.
Scene is set at a house, the phone rings, it’s late, the woman’s man-friend is on the line. He’s had a hard go at the local rodeo, and he failed to qualify for the next round. Tired and beat up, he decides he’s coming home.
But alas, while he has been out riding bulls and carousing with cheap women (probably) his significant other has taken another lover, and he “sure ain’t no rodeo man.” She tells her man-friend not to bother coming home, that she’ll be leaving and won’t be coming back.
Saddened, but not surprised, the man-friend simply says, “It’s totes cool, babydoll, I’d leave me too, but I gotta go, cause there’s a rodeo up in Wyoming and I think I can get there if I leave RIGHT THIS SECOND.”
Then there’s some driving, the chorus again, and before you know we hit the end of the song, which repeats the first few lines.
She never knew what his calls might bring,
With a cowboy like him, it could be anything.
And she always expected the worst in the back of her mind.
And there we have it. Those three lines give us all we need to know that almost the entire song has been a figment of her imagination, which played out in the span of a few seconds between her answering the phone and him leaving the phone dangling off the hook.
Confused? So was I at first.
You see, she was so worried about what he might say when she picked up the phone, that she subconsciously created a scenario in which he told her he was coming home, and she told him she’d found someone else (she hadn’t, really, it was a test, women always come up with these little tests) and he didn’t even bother hanging up, didn’t get mad, just said, “Baby that’s cool, I gotta bounce though.”
She always expected the worst in the back of her mind
Him not caring about her leaving is the worst thing she can think of.
So George, the master of Inception-esque temporal physics it would seem, has basically sung us a three minute ballad the equivalent of Bruce Willis being dead the whole time.
So, if you were as concerned as I always was for this tragedy of a romance, take heart, it never actually happened. The whole thing was a dream.
That’s my theory and I’m sticking to it.
Also, as a complete side note here, there’s no way George Strait and I aren’t related somehow. You put a hat on me and there’s virtually no difference in our looks. Uncanny really.