I have nothing against The Jonas Brothers. They seem like nice young men. A bit on the “contrived” side if you ask me, but Disney is a proven juggernaut of carefully articulated creation. The Brothers’ very existence has probably been proven relevant by a slew of highly educated “target-market-examiners” whose very livelihood depends on their uncanny abilities to understand how to get through to tweens the world over.

But back to the Brothers Jonas. These kids are rich, famous, highly sought after, and [vexingly] grounded. They are confessed followers of Jesus Christ, sworn virgins, and well-manicured fashion-kings of the 12-18 year-old set. Brilliant. But, what do they do once they find it necessary to shave everyday? Do they have plans for the future? It’s true they wear “purity rings” to represent their willful allegiance to abstinence, but what happens when the hormones outweigh the pledge?

This will likely never happen, as each brother seems quite insistent that his plight is hardly a media ploy. These dudes aren’t three male Brittney Spears clones who we’ve been tricked into believing are the best representations of the few remaining squeaky-clean youths in America.

Are they?

This calls into the question of “What if?” What if our nation’s youth has been fooled again into believing their heroes are truly “true,” and are in fact speed-metal-loving, poon-chasing, booze-guzzling acid heads whose faith in the demonic antics of Metallica [circa 1986, before their of their respective births] outweighs their belief in Jesus Christ? I realize this is like barking up a tree that doesn’t house a feline, but it’s fun to speculate, right?

Imagine is Joe’s hair-straightener is actually his mistress whose relationship to Joe is kept secret from her pimp for fear both of them would be “offed” if their secret got out.

Could you imagine the worldwide shock that would ensue if Paul turned out to be a 37-year-old session guitarist whose lust for “younger women” drove him to fool the entire universe that he was actually a mind-mannered, barely-legal axe-wielding aficionado whose distaste for the Satanic undertones in Black Sabbath’s music was a complete lie?

Would we be able to handle a world in which Nick, the youngest Jonas brother, had a voice so unspectacular, he made Ashley Simpson look like a sonically beatific concoction of Joan Baez, Celene Dion, and the real voices behind the blasphemous scam that was Milli Vinilli?

These are the questions that circulate in the backs of the minds of Disney’s higher-ups. Rest assured. They had better cash in their chips before the real Jonas Brothers step out from the shadows their angelically marketed selves have cast upon them.

New Kids On The Block didn’t have any real staying power (despite their recent insistence to release a “come back” record), but let’s face it, we preferred their backstage party-stories to the comparatively tame tales of the Jonas’ brothers frolic in the park with former first lady Laura Bush, right?

Right?

What we’re doing by giving our children The Jonas Brothers, is we’re giving them the wrong idea. Rock n’ roll is supposed to be dangerous. Sound dangerous. Feel dangerous. Have you listened to their music? Honestly, they have decent hooks, but it’s scary how quickly you feel yourself being lured to the “good side.” It’s like a hyper-Religious Jedi-mind trick Joe, Nick, and Paul craftily sling at their listeners.

It’s almost as if you become temporarily convinced a life could be fulfilled by having a sole sexual partner. For those of you who believe this, a.) I apologize, b.) it’s likely we have little to nothing in common, and c.) you probably shouldn’t’ read on.

I grew up watching my father parade around the duplex shredding a mean, mean air guitar salute to AC/DC, Zeppelin, and The Who. My mom occasionally showcased her shockingly accurate Grace Click impersonations a they serenaded the neighborhood from our kitchen as we slung together two-dozen Christmas cookies for our like-minded, rock-n’-roll-adoring downstairs neighbors.

Had I been raised by Disney’s rendition of what a rock n’ roll band should be “about,” I would be an entirely different person. Chances are I’d already be married, and sitting across the table from my vacant-stare-donning wife as we collectively tried to avoid making any relative attempts at dry conversation.

I certainly hope we’re being fooled, and the real Jonas Brothers [please] stand up, and rock out with their c*&^s out, because it’s hardly frivolous to ask if they even have these unmentionable appendages. Why would they need them? How different are they from Ken Dolls who can shred?

Asking rhetorical questions ain’t so admirable, but it’s better than sitting through a four second of Camp Rock. May these brother’s creators careers continue to flourish? May I be forced to eat my own words by a legion of adoring Jonas fans? Stay tuned.

Could this be what we’re not seeing?