Saturday, February 19, 2011

Justin Bieber and the End of Sexual Identity

Good morning, fellow adventurers.
The following image is my mental representation of Justin Bieber.

Imagine this screeching "Baby Baby Baby, Ooooh..."

If you must know, I Googled "Useless Fruit" and picked the first image on the queue. Thought my mental image has the berry a sick shade of cerulean, the candy red fits Bieber as well. Now, labeling him as "a fruit" isn't some backhanded statement against homosexuals. I have no beef (hur hur) with homosexuals. In fact, a Green Mage friend of mine is about propose to his personal trainer in the coming weeks, and I couldn't be happier for the two of them.

Right. My only experiences with Justin Bieber come from the super bowl commercial with Ozzy Osbourne, that obnoxious song mentioned in the caption, and bearing witness to pre-teen women dissolving into puddles when he's mentioned. So, a commercial where he tries to stand tall next to a rock legend, an androgynous song spurting repetitive lyrics concerning a topic he has no experience with, and the super power to melt the mindless.

He's a useless fruit. The banner waver of mediocrity, band wagoning, and limited power.
Bieber, you ride on the coat tails of a man who has taken enough chemicals to sate five 3rd-world countries. Bieber, you cannot write and your range is awful.
Bieber, you probably wake up in the middle of the night and high five your Night Rider poster for thinking you have some crazy Jedi power over a lot of sub-humans who'd squeal if they found five bucks - let alone listen to your music.

If three more Bieber-esque "entertainers" enter our pop-culture sphere then our entire race will transform into a mop-headed gaggle of rejects identified only by the music contained on their ipods. I suggest you class up your act a little. Might I suggest the following?

Tiny MS Paint sunglasses fix everything.

That one is free of charge, Bieber. Become a Biebro, or a Biebopper, or something with a little more grip than girlish man child what can hold a note. Seriously. You are in some oddly gained place of power, and a pair of tiny sunglasses, a bullet wound, or perhaps a fashionable addiction to the KFC Double Down would help our culture in one way or another.

Speaking of note...note to self: no blogging under the influence of Earl Gray tea. Hot.

TOMORROW: MS Paint sunglasses and you - a winner's tale.

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