OUT ON A LIMB: Bieber Fever
God that name is a fucking icon. On the outside he is a “pop prince,” but underneath that tacky smile and peace sign is a sneaky youth with a good voice who is insanely over-commercialized and, to put it plainly, a sellout. You may tell me “hate is still an obsession.” Yes, yes it is. He just stands there in skinny jeans and baseball hats and sings these songs that are somehow, SOMEHOW, found to be incredible according to a giant mass of screaming girls. So amazing, that my favorite magazine, beautifully sacred magazine, Rolling Stone, was defiled with this punk’s face on the cover! Perhaps I can’t fully articulate why a sixteen year old kid would evoke such hate from me — a pretty positive person. But I can try. He is worth over 112 million dollars, enough to pay for my college tuition for SIX MILLION TWO HUNDRDED TWENTY TWO THOUSAND AND TWO HUNDRED TWENTY TWO years (yes, I did the math). Please, don’t see me as this cynical person who is bitter and jealous of young success. Don’t get me wrong, I am proud of our youth. Like this guy, and this imaginative, vibrant little girl. As I type this, it is becoming more and more apparent why my hate runs so deep for this juvenile blonde pretty boy. It must be because I am jealous of his profound skills of writing symbolic and breathtaking lyrics. “I don’t want to miss out on the holiday, but I can’t stop staring at your face…” (that is so creepy, wtf!) ” …I should be playing in the winter snow, but I am going to be under the mistletoe.” What could it mean?! He is so deep, it’s ridiculous. Someone call the doctor, because I think I just got Bieber Fever.
The opinions expressed in Out On A Limb are of the writers’ and don’t necessarily reflect the opinions of The Owl Mag.