My son and all of his friends love to make fun of Justin Bieber.  They spend a fair amount of time proclaiming how much they “hate him” and how “lame” they think he is.  I guess they must really hate him a lot since they are all sporting Bieber-esque haircuts, plaid flannel button down shirts and skinny jeans.  Hmmm.  Me thinks they doth protest too much.  Last time I checked the saying went, "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery," not, "Imitation is the sincerest form of hatred."

  Maybe they don’t so much hate him, as they are jealous of him.   This confusion of emotions is not just limited to kids.

I was out walking with a friend of mine who is a grown-up woman in her 50’s, quite intelligent and accomplished.  We were talking about how much disdain we have for a certain family in our “hood” who is basically riding the wave of stardom for doing nothing at all. What they lack in talent they more than make up for in the ass department.  Well, one of them does at least.  But, she has enough junk in her trunk to carry the rest of her family along with her into stardom.  Our dissing of them seemed far more valid than what is directed at cute little Justin Bieber.  I mean at least he can sing.

The two of us got quite worked up discussing how unfair it is that we, who are brilliant, funny, and talented (even if we are glute-challenged), don't have the clout or the rewards that go along with all that undeserved fame (invites to all the best events, photos in magazines, talk show appearances, books published instantly and probably written by someone else--someone more like us).  We decided we hate them. 

   But, do we really?  Or are we, like the wanna-be Biebers, just jealous?  I think perhaps we are.  I mean, how can we really hate someone for doing nothing?  Or even for being famous for doing nothing?  Oughtn’t we reserve that emotion for those who do something, as in something terrible, ala Hitler or Bin Ladin?  I mean having a big ass is hardly a reason to hate somebody.  And while it might make someone famous, it certainly doesn’t make her a monster.

So I guess the only monster I’m worked up about is the green-eyed variety.  And now that I’ve recognized it and looked it in the face, it should disappear, right?  Wrong.  I’m still jealous.  Hey, if the young teen boys are all out getting Bieber hair cuts, does that mean it’d be ok for me to pad my backside?