…And Sometimes Chicks DRIVE The Car

The only people who would argue that Justin Bieber isn’t a destructive purveyor of  impending doom do not have penises, secondary sexual characteristics, or are trolling pederasts.

He turns music into sadness, the car radio’s scan button into a perverse game of auditory Russian Roulette, and legitimizes Rebecca Black. His ability to turn everything he touches into shit – apparently by sucking all the money out of it –  makes me wish I were dead, if only so I could, as an incorporeal ghost, slip into his mansion in the dark of night and wake him by whispering “Leeeeiiiiiiifff… Gaaaaarrretttttt…”

Ruining music is forgivable. Making CSI unwatchable is something I could skate past. But now Justin Bieber has done the indefensible.

He has ruined the fucking Batmobile.

That’s a perfectly good Cadillac CTS-V that Bieber convinced someone to turn into something Bruce Wayne wouldn’t buy to crate Ace the Bat Hound in.

But that’s because Bruce Wayne is a billionaire philanthropist playboy who fucks supermodels and cat burglars, while Justin Bieber leeches fivers from lovesick tween girls. When Bruce Wayne needs a Batmobile, he goes to Lucius Fox, picks himself out a man’s car and writes a check. When you’re Justin Bieber, well… I suppose when if you want anything you’ve got to blow Usher, you take whatever Batmobile you can get.

The whole gallery is at DVice if you’ve got the stomach for it.