Since it’s the asscrack of February and not a fucking interesting thing is happening, the biggest news of the moment is Justin Bieber’s GQ interview, where we’ve already learned that he’s basically a douchey frat president (minus the college education) (or any education). Justin leads Caity Weaver through his litany of very-public fuckups, eventually coming to his most recent one in January where he was asked to leave Tulum for baring his ass at a sacred Mayan site. Was he sorry for the momentary lapse in judgement? Hardly! He was too preoccupied with not fucking some motherfuckers up:
“Me and my boys have been doing this thing where we moon each other whenever we take a picture. So [my friend] went to take my picture, and I mooned him. And I guess [the guards] thought that I was being disrespectful to the site or whatever. That’s not what I was doing. I immediately was like, ‘Man, I didn’t mean any disrespect…,’ but they weren’t really having it. They were like, ‘No! You—this disrespectful!’ I said, ‘All right, cool—we’ll bounce.’ So I just walked out. I just knew it would escalate into something else. The dudes that were escorting us were like four feet tall, and I just wanted to… The old Bieber came back, and I wanted to smack them around a little bit. But I realized, you know what, obviously it looked bad, and it was disrespectful, because I was in their sacred area, showing my ass and stuff. But it was all in good fun.”
Just like you and me, Justin Bieber and his friends like to pull down their pants and present themselves to each other whenever a camera comes out, in a totally platonic way. He’d have us believe that when he’s not busy keeping up with Gwendoline Christie’s hairstyles and using Garageband to produce an album’s worth of songs in the exact same key, he’s using every ounce of willpower to chokeslam the people charged with protecting a site integral to the heritage of an entire culture. Sure buddy, and one time I totally stared down The Rock when he and I wanted the same parking space.
I almost feel bad for Justin Bieber. While most guys have the privilege of suffering their blustering “come at me bro” phase in relative anonymity, Justin Bieber spent his formative years knowing full well every other guy his age called him a “fag” just because their girlfriends liked his music. That would explain the tough guy narrative, but not the continued presence of that peach fuzz on his face. I can’t grow a good beard either and I’m way older than Justin Bieber, but I had the sense to give up on that dream long ago.