You know who’s really the devil? Yes, I am for calling that dried crotch cherry “Canada’s Jesus.” But the devil also lives in the stylist who put that look together. Justin Bieber looks like a Quints-fied Jeffrey Dahmer mixed with some Stanley Tucci in Lovely Bones and a drop of Terry Richardson. He looks like a child-touching child. That picture should come with a whistle and some holy water.
Instagram used to be one of the many churches where crazed Beliebers could worship their idol, but on August 16, 2016, a light in their life went out when he left IG. Since the Biebs is a toddler gremlin who feeds off of social media likes, I thought that he’d bring his page back from the dead eventually, but he hasn’t yet. And during a show in London last night, he dribbled out a Kanye-like sermon about the evils of Instagram.
Seen above doing a big boy bicep flex right before nap time, Justin Bieber is back at it again with his exhausting and well–documented hatred of his fans. Last night, the little twerp was on his way to perform in Barcelona when one of those deranged Beliebers tried to get too handsy with the goods and stuck his hand in Bieby Boy’s window. Well, Justin had to keep up his brand (which is “shithead Canadian toddler with rabies“) so he took off his Fisher-Price rings, gently tugged his Osh-Kosh leather driving gloves, and slapped his manliest punch.
The asshole black sheep of the Tyco Quints, Justin Bieber, is taking his Purpose tour to the Sambadrome in Rio de Janeiro next March (as in March 2017), and a handful of Brazilian Beliebers are already camping out. They’re not camping out for tickets, they already have those. Since the tickets aren’t numbered, the first ones in get the best spots, so they’re waiting in line FIVE FUCKING MONTHS in advance. If on December 25th, you start to feel sorry for yourself because you’re spending the holiday with nothing but a box of wine and porn (that sounds like a dream, actually), don’t! Make yourself feel better by telling yourself that in Rio, a Belieber is spending their Christmas lying on the sidewalk while waiting to see the maple syrup-covered piece of tampon lint in concert.
Justin Bieber has made it clear many, many times that his fans don’t exactly rank that high on the list of things he likes. America’s obnoxious Canadian nephew recently let his fans know how much he hates them by hissing at them on the street and telling them to shut their holes during a Purpose tour stop in Birmingham in England last week. Clearly Justin’s message of silence didn’t reach his fans like he was hoping it would, because he threw another mid-concert tantrum over their screams.
It’s Canadian Thanksgiving today, so I’ve been on my own, because my weekday partner in foolery Allison is busy feasting on maple leaves-stuffed roasted moose before she goes to her nearest Church of Latter-day Skanks to give thanks to a statue of Canada’s pride and joy Justin Bieber!
Madame Tussaud’s in London started celebrating Canadian Thanksgiving early on Saturday when they debuted their latest wax figure of Canada’s most embarrassing herpes outbreak. Madame Tussaud’s dressed their newest Biebs wax figure up like an early-aughts Kevin Federline and gave him a constipated facial expression that’s a cross between “Uncle Usher, you said just the tip!” and the face you make whenever you watch one of his performances.
Madame Tussaud’s also decided to give their waxed Biebs the wet look. That’s actually a smart business decision on Madame Tussaud’s part. They probably had to hire several new janitors to constantly clean their old Justin Bieber wax figure because crazed Beliebers kept covering it with a trail of coochie slobber by rubbing their down-low parts against it. And now that he’s supposed to look wet, they don’t have to worry about cleaning the sticky twat drool off of it. Very well played, Madame Tussaud’s!
“Canada’s Least Wanted” Justin Bieber IS that come-to-life spymaster of our time. The irritating shithead took to the Amsterdam streets sporting Joanne the Scammer’s version of Kris Jenner’s Sunday afternoon wig and a fake goatee. I’m not sure the disguise was necessary, Biebs. I’m not seeing the general public having exited the weed bakery to wait outside your hotel to envelop you on the streets out of sheer lust for your powerful celebrity presence. There’s one guy that thinks it might be you but that Jillian Michaels podcast he’s listening to you is infinitely more interesting.