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Justin Bieber Kisses Selena Gomez on National TV, The Apocalypse Truly Begins

May 24, 2011

If you are reading this, you were most likely not sucked into the heavens during The possible Rapture on Saturday.  (I say “most likely” and “possible” because with the company I keep I doubt we would have known if The Rapture had occurred.)  But fear not, ye faithful, for the End is still coming, and sooner than you think.

A day that began like so many others...

Last Sunday night at the Billboard Awards, Justin Bieber won the Top New Artist award, one of the five he took home that night.  But before he took to the stage, he planted a kiss on the mouth of Disney sweetheart Selena Gomez.  Thus began a new world order.  Call it the Apocalips: millions of tween hearts, simultaneously cracking in twain.  Bieber’s affections, formerly the property of his legions of screaming fans—he said so!—now officially belong to just one woman, that hussy Gomez, who probably French kisses.   Yes, Gomez has already received the expected death threats, but that’s not enough.  All future interlopers must know that Bieber does not belong—can never belong—to one woman, no matter how irresistible.  No, like international waters, like any true natural treasure, like Sol itself, Bieber belongs to no one and everyone.  Well, more accurately, he belongs to them, the shrieking hordes of Lip Smacking, Hollister-sporting, Twilight-watching tweens.  They have been with him from the beginning—no, before the beginning, before time even—and they made him what he is today.  If they can’t have him, no one will.  Selena Gomez may not have known that she would bring about the End of the World, but none truly know their places in the Divine Plan.

So tweendom must do what has never been done, what has never had to be done: destroy the world to save it.  If that means marching across the plains of Middle America to find their idol, devouring every food court calorie, finding the limits of their Unlimited Texting plans, consuming every bit and byte across all the world’s 3G and 4G networks, crashing every Facebook server, so be it.  Their endless swaths of destruction will take decades, if not centuries, to repair; their rampage will strike fear into the hearts of young and old alike, giving rise to new Biblical tales of plagues, swarms, and bottomless despair.  And when they find their idol (and they will find him), The One True Justin, they will consume him, flesh and bone, and in so doing become one with Him and all others.  Then they will purify themselves and the Earth with fire, so that no others may come after, and that they might live forever in The House of Bieber.  O the End Times are coming, friends, but they will not smell of brimstone or demonflesh.  They will smell of Forbidden Rose.

Repent, sinners!  Know ye that when ye spy the Smiling Tween, she smiles not for the mid-morn sun or the purr of a kitten, but for impending Oblivion, the only way that things can be put right.

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