And THIS is why I call him Pipsqueak.
New interview with Details, JT moans and groans about his “pop” status, swearing like a grown-up at the critics who’ve incorrectly labeled his music, despite the fact that he is who is he is because he was in a f&cking boyband! And still, he is an “artiste”… right? It’s, like, R&B music he’s up there squeaking to…right? He’s SUCH a manly man with creative integrity…right?
Eye roll, please.
I’ve no doubt he works hard. That he has talent is indisputable. But enough of these celebrities turning their backs on why they are who they are in the first place. Need a reminder? In the same article is a description of the crowd, the people who have paid to see Justin Timberlake perform, after which he will inevitably complain about suffering the indignity of having to receive their idolatry:
The Benetton-like tableau of black kids, white kids, goths, sluts, outcasts, and douchebags outside the Value City Arena has been waiting for four hours in the cold to worship at Timberlake’s sneakered feet. All those little girls who first felt stone strike flint in their panties while listening to the G-rated cooing of early ’N Sync are legal now. And they’re wasted. Boobs served up on underwire platters. Hair moussed, sprayed, and lacquered. Fists wrapped around cans of Bud Light, they’re gyrating against the metal crowd barrier like it’s a stripper’s pole. Inhaling alcohol, exuding sex, they pile in on top of one another for tonight’s “in the round” performance.
“In the round” performance?
Brilliant. I can practically hear the writer sneering.
But not even a page later, here’s Pip on the defensive:
“I tried so hard to be an R&B artist [on his first solo album, Justified] and it was the pop album of the year, and I was like, ‘F**k. That’s the last thing I wanted.’ But I was like, ‘So everyone considers me a pop artist? Well, f**k it. I’m going to do whatever I want to do.’”
More eye roll, please.
And he doesn’t stop there. Even the Grammy’s are to blame now. Even the Grammy’s owe him something. Because of that contest this year, because of the opportunity they gave away to one lucky winner – to sing live with JT at the Grammys, the chance of a lifetime - and now this bitch is sh-tting on the experience:
“Because I’m the nice guy who follows through on the things he commits to,” he says, a mock smile locked into place. “But I don’t know if I’ll be going through that sort of thing again. I feel like the Grammys used me for ratings. And look at it—they were up 18 percent.”
Major eye roll, please.
Nothing worse than an ingrate, a prepubescent little boy who takes himself too seriously and actually fronts like the 25 cars in his garage, the luxurious pad, the clothes, the adulation, the access, the fact that Scarlett Johansson will give his undropped balls the time of day – that all of it is 100% attributable to his God-given talent with absolutely nothing to do with The Game.
Justin Timberlake is playing The Game. And he is winning at The Game. Which is why he doesn’t get to spit on The Game and pretend like The Game is evil. Do you get to complain about The Game if you’re gluttonously soaking up the spoils of The Game?