So, this happened a few days ago:
[17/12/2011 18:58:59] Louise: hey how do you feel about michael buble?
[17/12/2011 20:02:43] Rammi: Apathetic.
[17/12/2011 20:03:00] Rammi: But if you buy me his album I will kick you in the face.
Which led to this:
17 December at 20:12 – Rammi: …Louise just asked me how I felt about Michael Bublé.
17 December at 20:13 – Rammi: I made it clear to her that I’d kick her in the face if she bought me that.
17 December at 20:13 – Sinéad: LOL
17 December at 20:14 – Sinéad: had no idea you were THAT strongly opposed to THE BUBBLY
17 December at 20:14 – Sinéad: (does he have a nickname or something? I just made that up)
17 December at 20:14 – Rammi: OMG YOU BOTH NEED TO BE TASERED.
Which made me realise I have a lot of irrational hatred for “the bubbly” (ugh). There’s no reason to hate him; he’s a successful musician whose songs make women all over the world swoon. I still do, though. Here are the reasons why.
- His songs – the ones released as singles, anyway – suffer from the Stephenie Meyer effect. The resounding theme is “OMG, YOU’RE THE PERFECT GIRL FOR ME” sometimes with an added “but Y U NO with me? *sadface*” He cleverly uses lots of “you”s so the people listening to him can easily put themselves in Bella’s, um, I mean, the subject’s shoes, and believe he’s singing a song to them personally. This probably accounts for 99% of people saying they love him (and 87% of all statistics are made up, but what of it)? “I just haven’t met YOU yet,” “I’m just too far, from where YOU are, I’ve gotta go home,” “YOU’RE every line, YOU’RE every word, YOU’RE everything,” and, er… These are the only Bublé songs I’ve downloaded, for some reason (the fact that I even bothered to download them shocks me already). Nicely played, Mr. Bublé. Nicely played.
- I used to listen to a lot of Magic 105.4. If you haven’t listened to this radio station before, they play a mix of golden oldies and easy listening pop from the current charts. Now, back when Bublé had just released his first album, someone at the radio station really got into his song. Every day, without fail, wedged in between Marvin Gaye’s I Heard it Through the Grapevine and something ridiculous by Aretha Franklin, I’d hear someone crooning, “Let me go hooooooooommmmeeee….” Seriously, mate, if you’re going to whine so much about it, JUST GO HOME AND STFU.
- Bublé feels like a robot dreamt up by movie execs for soundtracks. The worst example of this I’ve seen is in The Wedding Date. It’s a nice short romcom, but THERE ARE THREE BUBLÉ SONGS IN THE SOUNDTRACK ALONE. THREE! I was watching this over Christmas, and the only thought running through my head was, “Did Bublé sponsor this film or something?” Grr.
- He does something weird with his mouth when he sings. It leads to hilarity such as Russian Unicorn, which is the only reason this is so low down in the list.
- He’s so smooth it hurts. The voice, the suits, the dishevelled hair, that lost puppy dog stare… COME ON.
- LOOK AT HIS WIFE. Now, I’m as straight as they come, but you can’t deny it: that woman is HOT.
- He has that ambiguous hair colour that is ginger in some lights, but refuses to EMBRACE THE GINGER.
- He’s written a fake song for 30 Rock. I love that show so much, and if any other musician had done it, I’d be thinking, “Wow, this guy is awesome/writes great songs/has a good sense of humour.” But, since it’s Bublé… Goddammit.
- Update, 5:17PM: As if to prove point 3, I just got to the end of a Christmas movie (don’t ask, it just popped up randomly on Hulu and I was bored), and right before the credits rolled, a mystery Bublé song about Christmas played. Yes, I now recognise his voice anywhere. AARGH. I can’t believe he managed to Bublé-bomb me.
- HE RECENTLY RELEASED AN ALBUM OF CHRISTMAS COVERS. That should be enough reason for you to hate him.
…If you read this a few hours ago, then yes, I have added to the list of reasons why I hate “the bubbly.” I guess the point of this was to tell you to refrain from buying me anything of Michael Bublé’s for my birthday/Christmas/Valentine’s Day/any holiday, ever.