#1 on Daily Beast

FUCK YOU

I'd never heard of the hugely talented and witty Mr CeeLo Green but he certainly puts out a sassy video.

The chicks are all hot hot hot, as only that ebony ass can be.

And I love the bit right at the start where the kid oaths and his mom whups him from behind.

And at 1' 42 secs, the 'Heartbreaker', I trust we all agree that the chick in the glasses is wayy breakier than the flirty thing they point to?

Someone used wit for this bijou boogaloo videophony, and even the naughty word isn't that clear.

Long time since I swayed along to such a mood-lifting professional job that made me want to hear more.

^5, CeeLo, suh

LOVE IT! ~ and look out for that Greek gesture at 2 mins 20 secs.

All the bit-part players are right there and CeeLo is my kinda bulky black singer with that cool Percy Sledge voice.

Further reading:

Doesn't really tell me much more about the making of the video but the pert pouting hostess is worth a gander, so the breasts stay in the post.

Blocked You - this spoof seems to start with a take-off of the lovely MzKaz's Keyboard Wawiors and then adheres superbly to the original, both in voices and backing. How do people do it?

As someone who's been blocked for my acid comments from countless youtube clips - I must find that asinine plunker who completely misunderstands Jeux Interdit by overloading it with tremolo.

To boot, he ignores the basic basic lesson about tremolo ~ it is not easy, so ffs don't take it on if you can't get it bang on right.

Jeezus, children, you shouldn't need me to ram home that geetar 101.

Vendetta Digression ~ This would be the song and singer I'd choose for my Villa Thefti Youtube clip

CL crooning and jabbing away on the piazza.

In the background, plants rot, clever selective wild boar trample prized gardenry

Somewhere we fit in retrieval of my girls' heirloom gew-gaws.

In the movie, you see the Thefti safe oozing ominous poisonous SickVilla fumes: the VT Chubb metallica begins to buckle ... WHOOM!

No more Villa Thefti:

shards and debris

smoke drifting

boar rooting among the wreckage

... somewhere a woman crying.

Guitar chord.

Out of the smoke tread four dainty ankles. They stop and four dainty hands reach down to the mud where the camera focuses on an untouched jewel box, not a spot.

They each remove a cufflink and hand it to the other. In unison:

"Yours, I believe."

"Ours."

Swirl of Morricone rip-off muzak as they walk off into the mist. Porcine rootings, in the distance a siren. Two cats pad l-r as sound-track changes to Iron Maiden.

I'm suddenly reminded of a very public put-down at a posh eaterie, pals either side and next to me a new date whom I've been boring and with whom I've been getting nowhere but I'm too proud to show or give in.

A pause in the scintillating convo, at which she places a hand on mine and says in stage murmur,

"Christopher. Rearrange the following for a well-known phrase or saying:

'Off. Fuck' "

I still feel the burning cheeks.