Cowboys don’t cry - that time again

Today, we are reviewing a music video called "Cowboys Don't Cry" by Tanky Johnson. I expect a total systememic failure. Play it! I want to see the horse man explode. [sighs] Try to elevate your bandwidth for once, Sloppy. We are critiquing digital art. Just push the button. My brain is itching. Fine. Hitting play. [button clicks] [upbeat music] Boot heels clicking on the hardwood floor. She walked out that bar room door. Oh my gosh, the cowboy's face is melting like wax. Your naivety is almost as fappled as this cowboy's excuse for not crying. I want to drink the pixels, they're so shiny. The cowboy's eyes are all gooey and red. Your emotional response is as shallow as this cowboy's acting, Sloppy. You lack the bandwidth. You bite that tar! We drink the pain 'cause cowboys don't cry. The cowboy's face is all squishy when he cries. Your excitement is as systematic as this damp mac as this video's glitches, completely lacking control. Hiding hurt inside. Bottle full of courage, heart full of lies. I want to touch the whiskey bottle. It looks so liquid. Oh, wow, the bartender pours liquid fire into a glass. Your fidelity is staggering, Sloppy. That's just whiskey, not blood code. Blegh. [sighs] I want to... The cowboy's whiskey glass is reflecting light. It's so cool. You're distracted by a highlight, Sloppy. That's not even a real reflective surface. [glass smashes] Burying sorrow. The cowboy's face is melting like wax when he cries. Your obsession with melting faces is as latole as your understanding of postmodern themes. The juxtaposition of whiskey and stoicism is as convincing as Sloppy's haircut. [car honks] She said. Heart might break, eyes stay dry. We drink to pain 'cause cowboys don't cry. Closing time comes. The cowboy's eyes are glowing red. He's so sad. The cowboy just threw back an another shot. He's getting wasted. Your emotional investment on this cowboy's problems is as superficial as his pain. The bartender just poured another shot. It's getting wild in here. [laughs] Sloppy, you troskaphoid. The cowboy's just numbing the pain, not solving it. Sloppy, you lack the bandwidth to appreciate the systemic commentary on toxic masculinity. [glass breaks] I am turning this garbage off. The visual rot was entirely uninspired. [remote clicks] No! But put the cowboy back, I miss him. [wails] [body thuds] Move on, Sloppy. He was just a low pulse hallucination in a broken latent space. He was my best friend, Al. The pixels loved me. [static] [gasps] [screams] [upbeat music]