Friday, May 31, 2013
During Justin Bieber's acceptance speech at the Billboard Awards he defended his dumb-ass behavior of late by stating (and I paraphrase) 'hey I'm only 19... I'm doing pretty good...stop hating on me'. In a way he's got a sliver of a point but what he doesn't realize, because he's a fool, is that we the people, are supposed to be the ones who-should we choose to-declare that he gets a pass for being 19. Dude, we get it: your'e young, you're famous and you're a millionaire. And you want to be a bad boy. Well, it ain't working. You're scrawny and obnoxious which I suppose could be forgiven but you're being a bad boy in an uncool way. You're not bringing any cool to your bad boy party, yo. Sadly for you we as judge and jury, often don't know which celebrity upstart we're going to tolerate-which horse we're going to back. But that's just how she rolls baby. But if we're not digging you, feeling you or we just plain aren't hip to your bag, asking us to forgive you because you're 19 and loaded ain't gonna fly mon petit Biebereux.
The celebrity bad boy game is a fickle mistress Bieberoni. Think back, oh yeah you're only 19, ok Google back to Mickey Rourke in his early days. He was a rising star that some critics compared to Brando. But a few innocent barroom dust-ups later and he was kicked out of Hollywood for several years. Take Mel Gibson: he had a lengthy career, even won best picture for Braveheart but after a couple o' pops (hooch), spewed some anti Semitic crap and holy-moly is he struggling to get back...even with Jodi Foster's friendship lifeline. Conversely, take Robert Downey jr. He ran around high as a kite for a long time. He even woke up in some stranger's (non celebrity) bed in the middle of the day. But ya know he's just so damn 'aw shucks cute' not to mention super talented that we all rooted for him. And look at him now. So what to do, what to do Biebs? The obvious would be to lay low but nay, you're like a teenaged girl who receives an expensive sports car with far too many horses under the hood for her sweet sixteenth birthday. There ain't no holding you back is there little buddy?
Humility would be a good place to start but you've still got the same high octane energy problem. Not to mention you being a millionaire who's constantly surrounded by screaming chicks and massive cadillac sized bodyguards clearing paths for you every step and doing your bidding...I'm afraid humility's got a seriously slim chance of shaking hands with you any time soon. Why not try bringing a sense of humor to your party? Are you considered a cut-up among your chums at all? Do you tell side splitters to your bandmates backstage before showtime? Have you considered laughing at yourself, it couldn't hurt. Sh** we might even laugh along with you like a played-out laugh track from a bad 70's sitcom.
I must say your latest stunt is rich and quite entertaining, for me anyway. For you readers of the unbeknownst variety young J-doggie-Biebs here has constructed (well his lawyers have) a party waiver, if you will. Oh yeah, baby. If you want to get down with the Bieb-machine and party at his LA mansion you gotta sign on the dotted line. Again I'm paraphrasing, para-quotin' and dern well parachutin' into an area I've researched precious little (due to passive interest at best). Be that as it may, basically to attend one of the singie-boy's parties you must sign a document whereby you agree that once you attend you will not repeat, tweet, re-tweet, blog, whisper over a caramel latte, Facebook, Instagram or communicate in any way about what you saw, heard and or did while whoopin' it up at the Bieber palatial party palace. To violate the terms of this tender document results in a 5 million dollar fine. Ha! To quote my relatives from the great state of Georgia, 'that boy done lost his damn mind!'
Right off the bat this party counts me out because I simply can't afford that cover charge. Because that's what it would be to me. I'd pay on the way in and say 'ok let's see what this 5 million dollar gag order gets me.' Does this mean that he rolls with Cats that can afford to drop 5 mill' for opening up their trap? Come on now. This begs another question: what self respecting lawyer would draw up such a waiver? Oh yeah, one that is on the pip-squeak's payroll I suppose. I mean technically if they ever slapped the paper on a rich contract-breeching-partygoer it'd make a sweet little commission for the lawyer. And last question: don't you kinda sorta almost want to go to one of his parties? Yeah, me either.
Needless to say Justin dude, if you want us to forgive you your tender young age and the asininity that comes along with it ya gotta stop pulling stunts like this. Personally, I'm not bothered by the little guy. I find all of this mildly entertaining (more so than his music, but that's because I'm o'l skool). In fact when I try and put myself in his shoes I wonder would I have been any different at 19 drenched in fame and fortune? Ah, but when I really think about it there would be a few differences. Number one, I'd hit the gym so that when my shirt was off there'd be a reason my shirt was off. Second, I could handle way more beer than the Biebs and third: I'd never puke on stage like the little guy did in Arizona. But if by happenstance I did up-chuck it would be followed by brief maniacal laughter before hurling (pun intended) back into the song.
Upon further thought, there may be a slight kinship between me and young Justin Biebizzle. You see we're both Canadian; we have the same initials (JB) and when I was comin' up back in the day my nickname was...Beeb. (Oh dear, I just felt a mild wave of nausea tinged with confused depression come over me). Seriously though here's what ya gotta do Biebersaurus: scrap the current party waiver. Have your lawyers write a new waiver that you will sign which will allow your bouncers to pretzel you into your captain's bed, nearest closet or limousine once you've had a few too many pops (cocktails). And voila, before you know it you'll be back on top...or wherever it is you reside within your demographic.
**And now this blogger must sprint to ancestry.com to make sure that this blogger and J-Bieberella ain't distant cousins...