Michael Buble The Singer.

It was a wet and cold Wednesday evening in Cape Town, with a biting North Westerly wind that rattled the teeth, and shriveled the penis. It was in these awkward conditions, that I found myself tearing down the M3 towards town, as I was late for dinner again, and the thought of The Girlfriend setting fire to my clothes held little appeal to me.

I had just forced an Uno off the road, and was hurtling around Hospital Bend, when the horribly banal sounds of Michael Buble suddenly entered my ears, causing them to fall off and start violently convulsing.

Let's be very clear on this - the only thing worse than listening to a Michael Buble song, is listening to two Michael Buble songs. He has this incredible knack of sucking the life out of every little ballad he covers / samples, like an insecure child strangling his pet gerbil because he's just found out his parents are getting divorced.

He's been described on various news wires as a "singing sensation" but what's so f**king sensational about doing bad karaoke versions of other people's songs? Besides that, his lazy, jazzy, broody style and image really pisses me off, if I ever met him in the street I'd be like "Dude, I can't believe I just met you in the street? What a cliche.", then I'd compose myself and shake him a couple of times to get some sort of reaction out of him.


Michael Buble: Jazzy. Broody. Chop.

What grates me even more is the incredible publicity machine he must have behind him, who have inexplicably managed to brainwash people into buying his crap. Amazingly, he has managed to sell more than 10 million albums worldwide. Ten Million! To put it into perspective, ten million is more or less how many blind vagrants we have in Cape Town - you know, the ones you will see chilling at EVERY single traffic light in the southern suburbs.

Older people especially just seem to think he's pretty cool, my Old Man being one of them. Whenever I visit the Old Man to try and get some money or alcohol out of him, he puts on one of his Buble albums, causing me to gag and head for the exit door, which my mom normally has waiting open for me.

How can one best describe his music?

Well, the other day I was jogging in the rain, in an attempt to stop being a fat bastard, when I tripped over my hanging stomach and fell in a nearby puddle of mud, drenching me and causing my hair to mince quite ferociously. Eventually I made it back to The HQ where I was greeted by The Girlfriend, who had our industrial cooling fan pointed at me on full power. I suspected she was trying to give me pneumonia and kill me again, but I was thankful all the same, as this experience best summed up what it must be like listening to a full album of Michael Buble - it's like sitting in wet clothes, with a cold fan blowing on you.

Seriously, what is the attraction? Do people just ENJOY hearing someone yawn through an old pop song? Is it because he is Canadian? Do I just have shitty taste in music?

Help me out here. Why do you like Michael Buble? Why do you like Michael Buble? Why do you like Michael Buble? Why do you like Michael Buble?

Why do you like Michael Buble?

Why do you like Michael Buble?

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Why do you like Michael Buble?

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Why?



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