Angry Robot


I expect him to fizzle out any day now. But no, it just gets worse – recently I saw two twentysomething males on the streetcar sporting Bieb hair. (Yeah, twentysomething.)

However, his recent showing at 299 Queen St. drew disappointing crowds. It was because of the weather alert; presumably the parents of the would-be throngs had prioritized blizzard avoidance over temporary satiation of their tweens’ crush glands. The barricades ran crowdless down to Richmond. Pay duty officers stood around, bored. The storm never materialized. It was the opposite image of what was required: what good are your fans if they won’t stand around for hours in a blizzard? Especially a pretend one?

Perhaps that was the moment Bieber began his inevitable substance abuse problem – an exploratory first lungful of delicious hair product.