UNSPEAKABLE HORROR

On a Dutch newspaper site I read that Justin Bieber is, once again, a subject of police attention. Apparently he's a noisy and unpleasant neighbor, and fellow residents in Beverly Hills have complained to the authorities. Why, I hear you asking, is that news?

Well, it isn't. Bieber is a plague that G*d forgot to dump on the Egyptians. Consequently anything that blistery little putz does is three thousand years too late. So last millennium.

Suggestions had been mooted to ship him to the South Pole.

Penguins promptly rioted and broke windows.

Not on their watch, ever.


I'm just baffled at De Telegraaf newspaper thinking anyone cares about Justin Bieber. I had no idea so many braindead American teenyboppers read Dutch. Honestly, I thought they were only literate (semi-literate) in gutbucket trailer trash valleytalk, and lacked even the ability to look things up on the net.

Personally, my sympathies are entirely with the penguins. Not only do they NOT want Justin Bieber living in the same neighborhood, but so far NOT A SINGLE FLIGHTLESS WATERFOWL has attended a Bieber concert.
Which shows resolve, good taste, and a sound moral compass.
Penguins are excellent creatures and deserve respect.
Protect their world; keep it Bieber-free.


Canada doesn't want him back either. Reason being that they're afraid their own polar creatures will rise up. There's nothing worse than baby harp seals on a rampage. Before you know it, they'll be burning down boulangeries and waving anarchist flags.

I guess we're stuck with Justin Bieber.
There's no getting rid of him.
Damnation.

A POEM

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

Do you see any mention there of Justin Bieber?
Well, do you?

There's no frikken' Bieber in there what-so-freakin'-ever. Not a single frocken' reference to him, his ghastly notoriety, his appalling behaviour and zomboid fanbase, or anything the rancid little cretin has ever done.
You cannot find anything Bieberish in the poem.

There is a reason you won't. No part of that famous poem applies to Justin Bieber in any way at all. He is beside the point entirely. If, back in 1883, Emma Lazarus had had any idea that we would be cursed with Justin Bieber, all the lines in the second stanza would have terminated in "except Justin Bieber, G*d forbid!"
The French would have had second thoughts about donating the statue if there had been any inkling of that fearsome curse. "Mon Dieu, c'est une peste incroyable, un véritable cataclysme," they would have said "un mir yitzt hobn tzweitere fartrachten!"


After the nuclear holocaust, the only creatures left alive will be cockroaches and Justin Bieber.

Pity the poor penguins.




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