Guys, we need to talk about Justin Bieber. Every day he does something even stranger than the day before, and he handles it with shirtlessness and cryptic Twitter explanations. Shirtless, tweet, repeat. Shirtless, tweet, repeat. I need an instruction manual to understand it all.
Justin’s fateful London experience began with his “worst birthday,” continued with him forcing little English children to stay up past their bedtime on a school night, and has now concluded (please and thank you?) with a trip to the hospital. Justin collapsed during a concert at the O2 Arena because of breathing issues. After getting oxygen backstage, he finished the concert and was then rushed to hospital (no “the” necessary in England).
But things seemed to be looking up for Justin while he was bedridden, because he felt well enough to pose shirtless for a centerfold and post it on Instagram. And of course no recovery would be complete without Janis Joplin making an appearance. No, she didn’t rise from the grave to nurse Justin back to health, so put away your hippie headband, because you’re not going to Woodstock. She just serenaded Justin through headphones while he recovered.
Why do celebrities seem to have more fragile health than us little people? It seems like every day a celebrity is rushed to the hospital or checking into rehab for exhaustion. Is it all that kale they eat? Are they being deprived of necessary nutrients? Are their bodies just rejecting the air the rest of us breathe? I am very interested to see a medical study conducted about this. I would skim it like nobody’s business.
But back to Bieber specifically. What makes Janis Joplin, or as he wrote,
Jackie Jormp-jomp Janice Joplin, the ideal music for recovering from a concert collapse? Isn’t that growling voice a little stressful? Wouldn’t some Enya be more appropriate? Perhaps some Benedictine Monks?
And of course we have to talk about the shirtlessness. Justin Bieber is even more obsessed with unnecessarily removing or lifting his shirt than Tracy Jordan. We don’t need to be reminded that you possess teenage abs, Justin. We’re not afraid they got up and ran away. We saw them an hour ago. Shirts are friend, not food. I might have gotten that saying wrong, but you get the idea.
Can this London trip end soon, please? The stoic English don’t need your shenanigans. They’re busy stalking the royal fetus.