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?"
"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…
