Justin Bieber: A Divine Comedy for all The Unbelibers

When “news” broke that Justin Bieber has the most twitter followers in the world, over 33 million in fact, I couldn’t have been more apathetic towards any piece of information that could possibly exist, now or ever.

Justin Beiber

Then something happened. Like from Inception, out of nowhere the seedling of an idea was supplanted in my brain and it began to grow. And grow. And.

And it won’t go away.


33 MILLION FUCKING PEOPLE CARE about what this man child has to say.   That’s more than 10 percent of the U.S population.  It also doesn’t even account for the other millions, or potentially billions, of people that for one reason or another don’t follow him on Twitter but hear about his every bowel movement through media pollution (this blog is not immune), gossip and rumor.  Or, if not that, they have heard the public, amplified sounds layered on top of his harmonious voice which some people have classified as music.  Love him or hate him, its a phenomenal feat. Good for you, JB. No ill will, I swear it.


So. It is an undeniable, observational fact that Justin Bieber has a profound amount of influence in our current day in age, a day in age that has rapidly expanded humanity’s ability to communicate and connect across the world. Poof. Just like that. In an instant, boundaries are breaking. We, as in humanity on earth, are building our own digital Tower of Babel and unifying under a singular language of symbols: hashtags, at signs, acronyms, exclamations, imagery, et.al. (@Babel #lol)

Now let’s backtrack for a moment. My Judeo-Christian upbringing, with sprinklings of Catholic, Islam and even Agnosticism, has socialized me among a variety of philosophical ideologies, and given me an informed perspective of a lot of things, I think. Not in any authoritative way, but just as a personal lens to analyze culture with some degree of potency.  I don’t classify myself to any label because none of it appeals to me.  I prefer neutrality and objectivity. I am, I suppose, open to all possibilities and paradigms. For instance, I think it’s really cute that some have claimed to discovered Noah’s Ark and perhaps apart of me wants it to be true. Only because truth is better than fiction.


So when the Mayan Apocalypse didn’t actually happen in December of 2012, I think it ruffled a lot of non-indigenous feathers. Mainly hipsters. In fact, there have been so many false starts for the End Times and the Rapture over the decades, we grow weary of such claims. But there is also the strong Christian contingent of Biblical literalists that aren’t looking for blood and hellfire. There are some who are quietly awaiting the second coming of Christ to take an escalator down from heaven. And if some people have to die in the process, so be it – it would make a really great episode of Dirty Jobs. But if He did impart on the world in its current form, what would He look like, be like? How could He unify us?


So what if Justin Bieber, or someone like Bieber, were Jesus Christ, incarnate?

Before you get angry and call me a blasphemous bastard, just listen for a moment. Let’s set aside some of the superficial parallels, just to get those out of the way.  They were both born from young, struggling mothers who were beacons of inspiration throughout their life’s path. They’re both young men with intrinsic talents, manifested at a very early age. The both contain the propensity to captivate an audience.  They are both given a platform to extend their worldview and draw a motley crew of followers, followers that both bring purpose to their life’s work, yet also allow the ruling and authoritative structures to dismiss their influence and credibility. They both contain the magnetism to deliver powerful opinion and, well, give reason to their fame. And lets not forget how close the initials are.

So if Jesus Christ were to actually return to the 21st century, he would need to do so in a culturally relevant way, and in a way that speaks to a global audience in a language of unity. He would need to be a daft communicator that could navigate the sea-change and inspire within the rules of a new culture. The Miracle, as He has come to know, has given way to technology and engineering. It has given way to NASA, “the cloud,”  Adobe CS products,  illusionists and magicians, eastern and western medicine. The New Jesus would need to change the world with a You Tube video, with a kick-ass Instagram feed and a compelling brand story.

So given God’s influence as we have historically come to understand it, at any moment Divine Inspiration could shake the hair gel out of Bieber’s highlighted locks overnight. He could take his 33 million (and growing) fan base and turn it all around in an instant. He could be the conduit to a greater message delivered via satellite direct from Heaven’s Gate.

Then would you truly Bielibe?

  • Where: San Francisco
  • Weather: Foggy, cool. Highs – low 60s.
  • Consumed: 1 cup strong coffee, french press
  • Mood: Calm, quiet
  • Extenuating circumstances: Insomnia. Will continue to deny following Justin Bieber on Twitter.

Like diamonds

Day 3 of 2013:

  • Where: San Francisco
  • Weather: Crisp, clear. Highs – 60, lows – 43 degrees F.
  • Consumed: 2 cups coffee; 1 cup green tea; 1 lemon arugula chicken salad from Trader Joes; 1 package of dinosaur gummies; leftover thai tom kha soup and mango curry chicken; half of a double-baked potato with tapatio and lowfat yogurt; tiny ice cream cones from Trader Joes; wine.
  • Mood: Irritated, despondent. Impatient. Selfish.
  • Extenuating circumstances: Slept really late the night before. Woke up to a text at 3:45am that my good friend had her baby. Stress dreams.

The creation of babies is perhaps the most incredible thing in this universe. It’s like the heat and pressure which turns a piece of single piece of coal into a diamond. We go from meaningless lumps of inconsequential mass to beautiful, complex beings that illuminate light from within.

Be Resolute. It’s like flossing.

2013 New Year’s Resolutions are so difficult. I fucked it up within the first 24 hours.

“Write more, one blog post a week,”  I said to no one, ever.

It was something I wrote down before the stroke of a new dawn of a new year in order to train my brain to understand ‘discipline’ and ‘structure’ and other things I needed to make writing an extension of my routine, a necessary and often enjoyable (but initially tedious) task for self improvement and mindful zen and to “put myself out there,” if I really want to be a writer. Kind of like flossing in public.

one-does-not-simply-a - one does not simply Floss in public

Then January 1 came and went with a ten hour binge of DVR entertainment on a physical and emotional recovery. I didn’t do anything stupid the night before. I drank a whole lot on a frigid mountain top with a semi-large group of friends and watched as a waning gibbous ascended higher in the sky, and I contemplated far-off galaxies through the incredibly amazing Star Walk App.

I caught a cold the afternoon of Dec 30 and was determined to ignore its looming threat and the HELLFIRE I knew my lymph nodes would pay when I sent my core temperature to the bowls of a Northern California winter night with only a single layer of engineered nylon as a barrier between me and the chilly atmosphere. But I maintained my conviction. I layered, expertly. Camping was the only thing that could appease my irrational desire for a memorable New Year’s Eve activity, and one that required little pomp and zero circumstance. We would deliberately gather under the stars like wise elders of an era that only Tolkien or Peter Jackson could evoke in our collective consciousness.

And there would be whiskey.

I should also mention I have embarked on writing a personal account of happenings that had once occurred to me in my lifetime, events that have certainly changed and shaped me and it’s been long enough that I realize that now. I won’t use the word “genre” or “memoir” because they are unearned. Until someone else of thoughtful consideration describes the words I commit to paper as such, they will remain fluffy, French-glazed jargon with harmful consequence. They are only to be used for deliberate distinction, a notation of something worth indexing. It’s like when people overuse “fiancée” and begin to wave it around like a big penis devoid of humility and grace. It becomes  in poor taste and putrid ego, completely numb to the fact that that no one else is basking in it’s meaningless, self-realized status.

That’s just not me.

This personal account will not be posted online, but this blog will help maintain my discipline as I catalog my whereabouts and feelings and the atmospheric pressure throughout these days. S’here it goes.

Day 2 of 2013:

  • Where: San Francisco
  • Weather: Crisp, clear. Highs – 61, lows – 39 degrees F.
  • Consumed: 2 cups and one shot of sample coffee; 1 cup green tea; 1 cup gypsy cold care tea;  tomato soup and sourdough; twice-baked potato; baby romaine and spinach salad.
  • Mood: Pensive, calm, lethargic. Optimistic but uncertain. Detached and heavily romanticizing.
  • Extenuating circumstances: Sick, got a parking ticket.

And because I missed it, here’s my entry for Day 1 of 2012:

  • Where: Mount Tamalpais, Marin County and then San Francisco
  • Weather: Cold and bright. Crystal clear.
  • Consumed: 1 breakfast burrito with bacon; 2 cups of coffee; 2 cups of chai black tea; 2 pieces of See’s Candies; Thai take out of Tom Kha soup with tofu; cucumber salad; Mango Curry with chicken on white rice.
  • Mood: Exhausted and lazy. Devoid of introspection and reveling in intellectual stimulation of documentary-style storytelling and comedic timing. Flair for the dramatic.
  • Extenuating circumstances: Sick, Hungover, Day 1 of my grammatical pause. Went on a mountain hike before heading home.

Off to a pretty good start.