Which is worse: syphilis or Bieber fever?

My home town was recently graced with the presence of one of today's most famous, pop music performers - Justin Bieber.  Although we were spared any public displays of his rebellious nature (like his controversial pissing in a mop bucket at a show in another state), there were numerous Facebook posts about his performance, his arriving on stage late while suspended by wires and wearing angel wings, and countless opinions of how people feel about him.  Our local news station's Facebook page was full of comments from parents, grandparents, and youths who attended the show and thought it was great.  However numerous these type of posts were, the anti-Bieber following definitely tipped the scales in their favor.  I admit when I saw the picture of him in the angel-wing costume, I felt the need, and fulfilled the need, to express my opinion on the hottest thing to come out of Canada since Wayne Gretzky and Alex Trebek.  I simply typed, "Douche bag."  As I scrolled down to read some of the other comments, I started feeling bad for the little guy.  People were seriously slamming his music (which I do not care for), his look (which I find manufactured and pretentious), his attitude (which reminds me of any cocky, nineteen year old boy), and their disappointment in the parents that allow their children to listen to his music (which my daughters do not care for).  Then, it hit me......we sound like all the parents before us that hated their children's music.  I started laughing at myself realizing I was criticizing something I do not understand or appreciate because I will never understand or appreciate the appeal of Justin Bieber.  It does not matter because I never expected my parents to understand or appreciate the music I loved when I was living under their roof. 

Let's play a game!  I am going to post a few pictures.  I think it will help me get my point across.  Here is the nineteen year old that thousands of girls are going crazy for:

My guardian Bieber

When I was seventeen years old, here is the group of thirty-something men me and my friends were going crazy for:

Whitesnake circa 1988

 

When my older sister was seventeen years old, here is the band my mother let her drive to another state to see:

The Police

 







When my younger sister was seventeen years old, here were the performers she was going crazy for:

Featuring classics such as, "Gangsta Gangsta," "Fuck the Police," and, "Dope Man."

 

If you look at these pictures, I hope you see my point.  Bieber is a harmless, young, naive Canadian with a lot of money, good hair, and a limited time in the spotlight.  If the kids want to buy his CD's, download his music, and go to his concerts, let them.  He will eventually fall from grace, need his money for rehab and court costs, and in twenty years, VH1 will do, "Justin Bieber:  Behind the Music," and he will do a comeback album that even his fans do not really like.  It is the circle of life, so just let it run its course.  Who would you trust your daughter with?  The 100 pound Bieber, or five members of Whitesnake?

 

When you think back at the stupid, crazy things you did when you were nineteen, you can probably think of a few shenanigans that were worse than using a bucket as a urinal.  I will divulge no names and claim no responsibility for these antics, but I know people who have peed in a Burger King cup because they could not get to a bathroom, had intercourse in a row boat, flashed their boobs to an entire campgrounds, stolen street signs and a flag from a Dunkin Donuts, and outran the cops after drag racing through a neighborhood.  Give Bieber a break.  If you do not like him or his music, then do not listen to it or contribute to his wealth.

 

One last point:  the world changes, and we must change with it.  Just like we won't like our kids' music, they do not like ours anymore than our parents did.  Your grandparents probably hated your mom's music....especially those four, rebellious, long-haired British guys:

The most hated, dangerous twenty year-olds in 1964