I don’t know why I’m writing a post about Justin Bieber, the latest incarnation of estrogen fuelled adolescent angst to be marketed and sold like so many boneless chicken breasts in Safeway’s poultry section. Ho hum, another teen heart throb. Another cutesy poo boytoy for young girls to fantasize about. The pop music industrial complex hard at work churning out more Grade A teenburger for mass consumption. Never mind that it tastes and sounds like every other teenburger from decades past – it even has rockhard abs and a pompidore (oh wait – didn’t we see that look back in the 70’s? ).
Justin Bieber was discovered on Youtube almost five years ago. He’s from Stratford, Ontario (yay, Canada!). When he first popped up all chipmunk cute and freshly discovered, I thought ‘Good for you, kid! All power and success to you! Go for it’ He certainly has. He’s a huge success; I congratulate him for that. He earned his success. He earned his awards. He’s a mega-millionaire (grumble, grumble). He used his fame to help others and make little girl’s wishes come true to just meet ‘The Beebs’. I can’t fault him for that, nor would I.
Justin Bieber just turned 19. He’s not a teenybopper any more. He’s a young adult male now. Focus on the word ‘adult’. I remember being 19 once upon a time. I was thrilled. I could vote in a BC election. I could DRINK! I could stay out all night if I wanted to, no matter what my parents thought at the time (but seeing as they fed me, clothed me, let me live at home, and paid my university tuition, I wasn’t going to ruin a good thing!). Being an adult means accepting responsibility for your actions. When you’re a major recording artist, it also means being considerate of your fanbase. Sadly, Justin is starting to show the signs of being a callow, self-absorbed young man who needs a swift kick in the rear to knock him off his fantasy pedestal.
I speak of his Tuesday night no-show in London, England. The concert was to start at 8:30 pm Grenwich time. There were many parents there who brought their young daughters. Bieber didn’t start at 8:30 – he showed up at 10:30 pm. He was TWO HOURS LATE! TWO HOURS LATE! If he pulled this sort of stunt at the Rogers Arena in Vancouver, we would have had a full blown hockey style riot in the streets. Imagine for a moment that you’re a father who brought your beautiful, bright eyed, Bieber crazed 11 year old to the concert of her life and then had to leave because he was late? To add fuel to the fire, Bieber claimed he was only 40 minutes late. What a pathetic, flippant excuse from this punk. Worst of all, he apologized to everyone through Twitter, which is the online refuge of cowards who won’t publicly step forward to accept responsibility for their actions in front of real living, breathing fans who paid good money to see the concert.
What do you say to a young girl whose dreams you crushed because you chose to abrogate your obligations to your fans by starting on time, or at least as soon as possible?
Shame on you, Justin Bieber.
An update (March 8): The Daily Beast website published an article about his week in London. Wearing a gas mask? Swearing and trying to punch out a paparazzo? Fainting spells at his concert? It just gets better and better.
The Grumpy Ferret (Who is being just plain grumpy today!)