The New Yorker, that ever glowing beacon myopic intellectualism that I only ever read for the cartoons and the occasional David Sedaris piece, decided to publish a story about Scooter Braun, aka Justin Bieber‘s pimp manager. It’s actually a pretty interesting read, since there’s this super weird disconnect in everything Scooter says where he says all the right things but there’s always this weirdly dark and sinister undertone to it all. It’s weird. Anyway, I’m going to skip over those parts and jump to the segment where it’s revealed that Justin loves hitting other guys in the balls.
Carson Daly, the host of The Voice, walked by. Braun called out, “Hey, Carson!” Daly and Braun began to review a script detailing stage patter. Bored, Bieber started a game, playfully jabbing everyone in the crotch with his fist. First, he jabbed at Braun, who, without looking up from the script, dropped his hands to block. Daly did the same. When Bieber jabbed at Siva Kaneswaran, a member of the Wanted, he connected. He called out, “Got you, bro.” Kaneswaran balled his fist but seemed unsure how to respond. “I don’t want to hurt his pretty face,” he said.
Braun said, “Just get him in the pretty balls. It’s fair game.”
“No, it’s not,” Bieber said.
Braun took a firm tone. “Justin, it is—fair game,” he said. “You hit him in the balls, fair game.”
Bieber was peeved. “Where’re we going?” he asked. “Where’s my dressing room?”
Wait, did Scooter just refer to Justin’s junk as his “pretty balls”? Holy … WHAT. See what I mean about the disconnect? There is no way a grown man referring to his 18-year-old charge’s testes as “pretty” is normal or healthy or NOT TOTALLY WEIRD. Although to be fair, that is only slightly less weird than his fans giving his wang a name. No, seriously, stop it you guys. It’s getting creepy.
