Nothing at all weird about appropriating a term for a shooting someone with a gun – potentially killing them – to your weird, vineyard-centric romantic conquest. Nothing weird about that at all. Oh, Train. There are so many things heinously wrong about you I don’t know where to start. So let’s start at the beginning.
I have a theory. I don’t expect it to be a popular one, but here goes anyway: Justin Bieber is the male Lady Gaga.
BEAR WITH ME.
Now, I don’t mean in a musical sense, or (somewhat disappointingly) in terms of fashion either, no matter how much I’d like to see Bieber wearing a giant lit cigarette on his head at his next concert, or shoes that meet regulatory standards for the butchering of cattle, or just dousing himself in pig’s blood and running around screaming, “SISSY SPACEK! SISSY SPACEK! SISSY SPACEK!” as I’m sure Lady Gaga will have to do at some point because ideas are finite.
Rihanna, my dear. You’re… I can’t…AUGH.
There are so many things I want to say to Rihanna. In my eyes, she has a lot to answer for. Yes, okay, she was the victim of domestic abuse. And no, she isn’t obligated to become the poster-victim for the whole thing. But I feel like she’s at least obligated not to have songs about how PAIN GETS HER PUSSY WET. It’s like a retroactive statement, “No, hey, guys, really! It’s okay! Yes, Chris Brown hit me and it was very wrong of him but TO BE FAIR, I immediately had multiple orgasms. Dude knows how to use a fist.”
Yes, I do know that it’s just a song and that singing about something doesn’t necessarily become you as a person, unless you’re a stalker like Sting. To be fair on Rihanna, there’s a fine line between enjoying S&M as a sexual practice consensually and being hit non-consensually. But it just feels like a terribly unfortunate coincidence, if nothing else.