Wednesday, January 2, 2013

ROBLOG #467



First off Happy New Year!
 

Here we go again. A new year and we’re all hanging by our collective foreskin.I don’t know what you ladies would be hanging by and I don’t even want to hazard a guess.
So, welcome back to my Rob Blog after a well-deserved rest. 

Second of all this year- and it's not a resolution, it's a question:
"When the tree falls in the forest will anybody care to listen?"

That being said- What the fuck is it with Justin Beiber? 

Oh well, a lack of  formulating and besmirching a blog does not make.
Oh, by the way if you don’t like to read the word “cock” in print. STOP reading now!

How can you not dislike the guy?
He is an “A-1” Asshole and I am surprized his Christian Mother doesn’t cuff his ears. Not only does he try to act like an American he seems to be under the quirky delusion that he is a Black American.
It’s the money he gets that causes such a change.
It should be a medical condition.  

Why are we Canadians so quick to be Americans? Yup- money. The yellow brick road to fame, fortune and a white picket fence. He has no idea and I am sure like most Canadian expats Beiber’s American managers insist that he de-Canadianize.

You see, most Americans don’t get Canadians. Actually, they don’t get the rest of the world unless they’re shooting at them- or themselves come to think of it. 

I saw Justin before Christmas on a Michael Buble Christmas Special- filmed in New York last year. A quick aside here.
I wasn’t too happy with Mr. Buble in this TV special either. The singing was good. Staging excellent but he took a moment to thank the troops and an oddly out of place video insert was dropped in as he waxed poetic about being Canadian and his hope for our troops.
I wonder what ran on American TV?
American “boys” in dress uniform filled a part of the audience. 

Anyway, back to Beiber. He was a guest of Mr. Buble’s and when he was introduced he walked out on the stage with pants hanging at the top of the crack of his lily-white Canadian ass. He walked- uncomfortably, like he had a huge carrot or cock up his ass. Actually I don’t think his ass could take a huge cock but that’s a story for another day. It was embarrassing. I don’t know how Michael kept a straight face.

Oh how I wish he had of fallen flat on his face. The crotch of the jeans hung at knee level.
When he sang-bending down to touch the hands of screaming 11 year old girls, the crack was right there- at least the uppermost reaches of it. Someone should have tucked a sprig of holly right there to cover the offensive boy-crack up, holding the thing in place with a huge piece of sticky duct tape.
He looked like a plumber- not a successful singer, although they make about the same salary. 

I mean, I try to like him but nothing he does endears me to him. I am not a fan of Mr. Harper but coming off set showing up to accept an award dressed like a south ward welfare recipient is just plain not acceptable . Who the hell is advising this guy?
Rob Ford? 

Now, even Beebs expensive car gets in trouble. A photographer rushed across an LA street to take a photo of the car- perhaps thinking the Beebs was driving it and was unfortunately hit and killed by a car when he crossed back to the side he came from.
Beiber made a statement. I didn’t hear it but what could he say?
I mean really- 

“Yo, yo, yo Bro...sorry ya got hits by a thang on the street.  Later. In Heaven dude.” 

I didn’t hear if “Beebs” came home to Kitchener for the Holidays- or is it Guelph? No matter, if I was the Mayor of Kitchener I’d say- Don’t need to do us any favours Beebs!
We’re trying to disassociate ourselves from not only your pants but your boy-crack as well. 

Call us when you grow up…

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