Monster Children

Eddie Vedder is trying to Cut Your Lunch.
Posted By Jason – 15.02.2012

Brothers, I’m sad to report that Eddie Vedder has been trying to steal our girlfriends since early 1991. It dawned on me this morning while making breakfast for my girlfriend and I in the sunny kitchen of our home. The Pearl Jam song “Black” came on the radio and the love-of-my-life immediately began singing softly along as she flipped through the morning paper. “So what?” You say. I’ll tell you so what: besides “Like A Prayer” my girlfriend doesn’t know any songs!  She’s one of those peculiar people who don’t really take that much notice of music. She likes it, sure, and she can dance like Ginger Rogers; however, she doesn’t catalogue bands, albums and tracks in her head like the rest of us do. She doesn’t really care. So there she is, absentmindedly warbling along with Eddie: “I know someday you’ll have a beautiful life, I know you’ll be a sun in somebody else’s sky, but why, why, why can’t it be miiiiiiiiiiiine.” And suddenly I’m struck with the chilling, revelatory horror that Mr. Vedder has been trying to make off with all our birds since he first came on the scene in 1991.

Let’s deconstruct good ol’ Eddie, shall we? For a start, he’s good-looking in that far-away-eyed, damaged man-boy way that girls really like. They think they can fix him, or, more accurately, he makes them think they can fix him. But they can’t; the big lug ain’t even broke. Next: his deep-ass voice. What do we equate a deep voice with? Anyone? Anyone? That’s right, a massive dick. Why do you think James Earl Jones gets so much pussy? Because he did all those Verizon commercials? Wrong. It’s because his deep baritone is directly proportionate to the length and girth of his wang. This is the reason Michael Cera has never pissed crooked in a stranger’s bathroom; no one wants to make it with Mickey Mouse.

So he’s got a deep voice and he’s handsome; big deal, lot’s of rock stars fit that description. They do, yes. But they don’t write lyrics like Eddie, do they?  And this is the tent-pole that supports my entire hypothesis. Most rock stars write songs about falling in love or breaking up, fucking, fighting, whatever, but Eddie Vedder writes songs about women who are miserable and need to move on to something better. Take the song “Why Go” from Pearl Jam’s first album, Ten.

“She seems to be stronger

But what they want her to be is weak

She could play pretend

She could join the game

She could be another clone.”

Granted, this song is about mental illness or something, but you have to read between the lines: Eddie is on her side. He can see how “they” are keeping her down, how “they” want her to be “weak.” Who are “they”, you ask? He’s talking about every other man on earth besides his good, chivalrous self. Sound far-fetched? Okay, what about this sly piece of trickery from Pearl Jam’s second album, Vs?

“She holds the hand that holds her down.

She will rise above.

Don't call me daughter, not fit to…”

That’s only the tiniest snippet of the song “Daughter”, but it’s pretty obvious that Eddie is trying to brainwash our women into spurning their fathers (or father-figures) and running to him for paternal comfort. I mean, what the fuck is wrong this dude? He’s clever; I’ll give him that. Attacking the delicate and ambiguous arena of Father-Daughter relations is about as low as you can go, but let’s face it, if you’re trying steal the heart of womankind you may as well begin at the bottom and work your way up, just like those delightful Hookworm larvae do.

If you’re not yet convinced that Eddie Vedder wants to pilfer your chick, this next piece of evidence from Vitalogy will certainly change your tune.

“Waitin', watchin' the clock, it's four o'clock, it's got to stop.

Tell him. Take no more. She practices her speech as he opens the door, she rolls over...Pretends to sleep, as he looks her over.

She lies and says she's in love with him, can't find a better man...”

How’s that last line? “She lies and says she's in love with him, can't find a better man...” Are you fucking kidding me? He’s planting that shit in your girlfriend’s head right in front of you on prime-time radio! The bastard has imposed an international curfew on dudes! 4AM? Who hasn’t gone out and come home that late? You only have to do it once now, and she’ll get that song in her head and start looking for a “Better Man”! And gee-whiz, I wonder who that better man is?

Piss off, Vedder. I’m watching you.