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November 03, 2015
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This was not something I ever expected to say. But facts are facts and this beautiful, soft-penised boy has released four straight singles that are undeniably good.

It’s becoming increasingly common for adults to like Justin Bieber. A notion once scoffed at, many grown-ups are at peace with this new predilection toward Bieber’s music. I am one of these adults. I like Justin Bieber. And not only that, I’ve even found myself going to bat for him. I’ve made strong statements like “I know he’s a penis boy, but these songs are legitimately good” a lot recently.

This was not something I ever expected to say. But facts are facts and this beautiful, soft-penised boy has released four straight singles that are undeniably good.

This past weekend, I took a road trip with four other adults, all of whom requested Justin Bieber songs be played on separate occasions. While there may have been trepidation in our voices each time a modern classic like “Where R U Now” or “Sorry” was sought out, it bonded us. Brought us together.

There was a time — let me take you back to 2010 — where it was agreed upon in adult circles that Justin Bieber was a little wee-wee boy who made music for his little dinker and his lil dinker supporters. Flash forward to 2015. I still firmly believe that he is a little dinker boy. But now he’s a little dinker boy with socially acceptable, well-constructed pop songs. And I am one of those dinkers.

We no longer live in a time when pop music is something to be looked down upon by music snobs; the democratization of music via the internet has led to the cream rising to the top. We’re no longer at the mercy of Top 40 radio, who for years subjected us to bubblegum pop and corporate rock songs manufactured by music labels. Good music is good music and the best music is enjoyed by the masses. It just happens to be that the best music today is being created by a boy who wears dresses as shirts and pees in buckets, the latter of which can be chalked up to the aforementioned penis-boy factor.

So here I am, a 33-year-old adult man — one who has a wife, has thought about owning a home, and even begun thinking of starting a family of my own — who is comfortable with the future. And if the future is being controlled by a boy who once said Anne Frank would be a “Belieber,” I am at peace with that, so long as he’s enlisting a superstar roster of reputable DJs and producers to bring his little penis-boy dreams to life.

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