On the heels of one of the greatest injustices in recorded human history, I now turn my attention to the incomparable Justin Drew Bieber.  I referred to Lady Gaga as a “near-prodigy” last week. There’s no qualifier necessary for Bieber.  His is a gift in which we all share.  Since his discovery as a thirteen-year-old, Justin Bieber has quickly emerged as Canada’s greatest entertainer since Alan Thicke and its greatest songwriter since Paul Shaffer.

His most successful single to date is the 2010 hit “Baby.”  Perhaps the strongest indicator of Bieber’s preeminence is that the video for “Baby” is the most-watched clip in the history of YouTube.  Not sneezing panda.  Not basketball trampoline.  Not evolution of dance.  Not Charlie bit my finger.  Justin Bieber.

Yet, as successful as Bieber has been, his mercurial, reclusive nature coupled with his impenetrable lyrical style has prevented him from yet achieving a number one single in these United States.  In an effort to advance the cause of Bieber, I present the following narrative lyrical analysis of his biggest hit to date:

“Baby”

Despite your claims to the contrary, you’re fully aware that you have romantic feelings for me.  Furthermore, I am aware that you are aware of these feelings.  I’m at your beckon call.  I’ll be with you immediately upon receiving notice of your desire to see me.   I care for you in a way that is so intense that it’s almost as if you were lodged in my chest cavity.  We’re just that inseparable.

Now, hold on a minute.  Are you questioning the seriousness of our relationship?  Wait, are you questioning whether there’s a relationship at all?  Surely, you jest, m’lady.  And now you’ve added insult to injury by bluntly and coldly notifying me that you’re actually in a relationship with someone else?  Things have gone from bad to worse to horrifying in short order.  This disastrous turn of events has led to a crushing emotional blow—the first such blow for me in my young life.

In response to this news, I said, “Baby, baby, baby, OH,” and followed that up with, “Like, baby, baby, baby, NO!” and then another, “Like, baby, baby, baby, OH!”  I was under the impression, as stated previously, that (1) not only were we an item, but, (2) we would remain as such for an indeterminate length of time.

As you were unconvinced, I continued, “Baby, baby, baby, OH,” and followed that up with, “Like, baby, baby, baby, NO!” and then another, “Like, baby, baby, baby, OH!”  I was under the impression, as stated previously, that (1) not only were we an item, but, (2) we would remain as such for an indeterminate length of time.

A primary source of my confusion over our parting is my willingness to sacrifice on your behalf.  Despite this selfless behavior, you were somehow unsatisfied.   I presently find myself in the awkward position of standing face-to-face with you in public, being told that our romance lies dead before me like so much roadkill.  The pain of losing you causes me to desire to lash out, yet, the recognition that we’re in the presence of many friends-slash-witnesses mitigates that urge.  Hey—what if I were to purchase an expensive gift for you?  A nice piece of jewelry, say?  Would that help?  No?

Ok, I acknowledge that that was a super-needy, pathetic move, but I’m crestfallen.  This damage can only be repaired by you (also the one who caused said damage).  This is a nightmare scenario.  I sense myself descending rapidly in a precipitous downward spiral, and, in an ironic twist, you seem to be the only one who can stop this nauseating process from unfolding.

In an effort to convince you to return to me, I argued, “Baby, baby, baby, OH,” and followed that up with, “Like, baby, baby, baby, NO!” and then another, “Like, baby, baby, baby, OH!”  I was under the impression, as stated previously, that (1) not only were we an item, but, (2) we would remain as such for an indeterminate length of time.

If this doesn’t convince you, I don’t know what will: I say “Baby, baby, baby, OH,” and followed that up with, “Like, baby, baby, baby, NO!” and then another, “Like, baby, baby, baby, OH!”  I was under the impression, as stated previously, that (1) not only were we an item, but, (2) we would remain as such for an indeterminate length of time.

And, now, an interlude* from an elder whose sage advice will hopefully provide guidance:

Justin, lend me your ear for a moment.  Allow me to share with you some critical knowledge I’ve acquired, so that I may both relate to you and assuage your feelings of angst.  You see, I also know the excruciating sting of love lost.  Once upon a time, when I was a youth—more youthful, even, than you, my tiny amigo—I fell head over heels for an incomparable young woman.  She was my top priority in all the world.  Some even said I was obsessed.  The spell she had over me mimicked the properties of mild psychoactive stimulants (e.g. caffine).

Consistent with the effects of such chemicals, I often experienced heart palpitations when in close proximity to her.  I also detected that she knew her beauty and grace had me enthralled.  And, getting back to you, your (and, figuratively, my) heart is breaking as we speak.  Yes, I know I skipped the critical part of my story that makes the anecdote directly analogous to your life, but, never mind—let’s get back to that chorus, shall we?

Allow me to recap my pleas, fair maiden: I said to you, “Baby, baby, baby, OH,” and followed that up with, “Like, baby, baby, baby, NO!” and then another, “Like, baby, baby, baby, OH!”  I was under the impression, as stated previously, that (1) not only were we an item, but, (2) we would remain as such for an indeterminate length of time.

I implore you!  I said, “Baby, baby, baby, OH,” and followed that up with, “Like, baby, baby, baby, NO!” and then another, “Like, baby, baby, baby, OH!”  I was under the impression, as stated previously, that (1) not only were we an item, but, (2) we would remain as such for an indeterminate length of time.

Well, that’s it.  I give up.  Yeah, yeah, yeah.  Yeah, yeah, yeah.  I’m through.  Yeah, yeah, yeah.  Yeah, yeah, yeah.  Mistakes were made.  Yeah, yeah, yeah.  And now I will take my spirit, which you have crushed into a finely-granulated powder, and depart you forever.  Bieber out.

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*=Pun INTENDED!