Everyone has their vices -- it's just that mine, lamely enough, happens to be soft drinks. I've never smoked cigarettes, pot did nothing for me the two times I tried it, and every time I've gone out drinking with friends I've easily been able to cut myself off before I make a drunken idiot of myself and guarantee myself a morning hangover. But keep me away from easy access to Pepsi for 48 hours and I will start fiending -- at least, if you can call lurching around inside my apartment in a stupor and occasionally falling asleep while standing up "fiending". Still, after being tired of having to drink caffeinated sugar-water just to maintain even the most modest level of energy during my work day, I decided that enough was enough and it was time to throw the high fructose corn monkey off my back. I will say that I've made it this far without hallucinating, which is good, because I was starting to get concerned that I'd be lying in bed, shivering, in a cold sweat, and then I'd look up at the ceiling and the 7-Up Spot would be crawling towards me to the droning tones of Underworld. Or maybe I'd wind up seeing something far, far stupider.
I'm not going to go around making a whole bunch of gratuitous Canada jokes; any nation that gave us Neil Young and SCTV and Kate Beaton deserves at least some measure of respect, and being someone who comes from hardy Voyageur stock myself there's at least a small amount of pride at stake. But man! Kim Mitchell. What is with this video? Maybe the Canadian recording industry could only simultaneously sustain the collective cheesy awesomeness of Loverboy and Aldo Nova in the mid '80s and were stretched too thin to properly nurture the potential of the balding former frontman for Max Webster (a band that didn't actually include a member named Max Webster). That'd be explanation enough for why this clip is so damn ramshackle -- it's the kind of self-consciously "wacky" video where the line between rocking out and being a capering dolt has not yet been drawn, where toupee gags and blue-screen effects reign supreme, and where a bit of semi-believable video trickery should be enough to make up for the fact that the schlub at the center of it all delivers one of the most dispassionate line readings in recorded media history at the end of the video. I'm also pretty sure that, contrary to the song's lyrics, at least one person in history has drowned and subsequently died as a (possibly indirect) result of someone going for (a) soda -- maybe someone tried swimming in a pool immediately after drinking a Shasta, burped while half-submerged, started choking on water, panicked, flailed around, hit his head on the diving board, went unconscious face-down, and also there weren't any lifeguards around? I don't know. I do know that if I were watching a miniature rock band perform inside my refrigerator and after performing they all turned into soda cans, I would not drink that nasty-ass soda. Yuck.