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Celine Dion, the Media Whore

posted by Chad on 2/02/02

It’s hard to honestly come out and critique music. No matter what facts, proof, or evidence you have, music boils down to personal preference. You can’t very well say something is or is not good. It’s like judging the taste of food – it’s a subjective matter. This is why I don’t write too many music reviews: no matter what I say, it’s just an opinion. All music has a time and a place, a situation where it works.

All of that considered, I still say Celine Dion sucks ass.

As far as articulation goes, you’re not going to see it here today. No big fancy words. All the adjectives I know are taking a backseat – variations on “fuck” are in order. If you’re young, sensitive, or know better than to read about Celine, then turn away – because this isn’t going to be a nice, happy, funny post. This is going to be a post with words like “cunt” and “whore.” I’m normally a nice easy going guy, and don’t take many things seriously. There is only thing that consumes me: my undying hatred towards Celine.

You stupid ugly fucking cunt.

When I was younger, I was quite bitter about all of pop-culture and thought it was a load of shit. It all made me very, very mad. I’ve grown up since those days – I now point my finger and laugh instead. However, despite my vast maturing, the Celine hate remains. Don’t IM me telling me you hate Celine too – it’s not worth your while. You don’t measure up. This post is years and years in the making, a post I planned from the beginning of BigMeats. This is a milestone event for me. Say her name and watch my eyes flicker with hatred. This is anger in its purist – indeed, it almost had me kicked out of the house I was living in. But before I tell that story, let’s look at the life of Celine.

I’ll say it again – You stupid ugly fucking cunt.

I’ve done some research for this post – I want to prove my anger has a basis. Searching for information on Celine is an easy task – you see, she’s a media whore. She has constantly craved the spotlight. She’s made every movement and moment of her life available to everybody, whether they’re willing to listen or not. While it is this aspect of her personality that irritates me the most, today it plays in my advantage. It’s fueled my fire, armed me in my war against her, and all those other feisty little catch phrases.

The dirty old man that’s been there all along.

If you’ve had the privilege of hearing Celine talk, you’ll hear all about her amazing, wonderful husband, Rene Angelil. A part of me feels sorry for the man that has to call that ugly horse faced woman “honey,” but the stupid son of a bitch did it to himself. You see, Rene is Celine’s musical manager – and their relationship started on a professional basis. Rene heard a demo tape of Celine when she was five, and signed her to a blah blah blah. From there, they fell in love and blah blah blah. The rest, as they say, is history. Or child molestation – your choice.

When I was young, I used my hands and mouth to express my affection.

With the expertise of a child molester, Celine’s career took off. From a very young age, she was subjecting the residents of Quebec to her French songs about love. At the Juno awards one year (Juno’s are the Canadian music awards – too bad we don’t have any music worth awarding), Celine made her English singing debut and “wowed” audiences into “vomiting,” “self-inflicted injuries,” and “thoughts of suicide.” From there, she learned the English language in a mere six months – an impressive feat for someone that has openly admitted that she doesn’t read books, as they make her head too full. Yes, she actually did say that in an interview.

The dress is big, my ego is bigger.

Riding the success of multiple soundtracks - Beauty and the Beast, Sleepless in Seattle, Up Close & Personal, and Titanic – her ugly mug was broadcasted to millions and millions as my hate went on. Celine has sold more albums than anybody else since 1990 – that is a fact, and a sad reflection of the music industry. There’s no denying her talented ability to sing such a wide variety of songs about love, love, and love: all of those creative people that write her songs have pushed her career on a variety of important issues, such as love, loving, and being loved. And then, of course, there’s that great love song she does. Think about it: who’s going to know more about love than Celine, who’s been receiving throbbing old man beef love before she knew what anal sex love was.

The outfit is ugly, but I’m thankful she hid her face.

Along with any entertainment success comes media attention: and Celine has never shyed away from sharing the details of her life. From her story of holding her neice as she died of cystic fibrosis to Celine’s irregular menstrual cycle, she’s done her best to tell us every motherfucking thing about her life promote her music in a kind and friendly manner. Now, I already can’t tolerate her music: but using the media as a personal diary causes me to break out in a manner similar to fucking goddamn useless piece of shit tourette’s syndrome, that cock sucking brain dead goo guzzling anorexic twat. CUNT!

Jesus, you ain’t got nothin’ on me.

God, annoyed greatly by the numerous prayer requests to strike Celine down, did His best to help humanity out – but He fucked up and gave the throat cancer to Celine’s husband Rene. But, as all things do, it seemed to work out: Celine retired to take care of her husband. And the people rejoiced.

Celine’s retirement became a huge media issue – she was garnering even more exposure now that she was taking a break. The media made her temporary hiatus into the story of the year. Nobody could believe that Celine was going to take a break – she only said it in every interview she did over the past year, but it still left the world in shock. It was during this media farewell blitz that trouble was brought into my house.

At the time, my family was living at my step-dad’s mother’s house while my parents built their dream house (on her backyard, no shit). So one morning, while reading the entertainment section of the local rag, there was a four page section plus a pull-out poster of Celine. While muttering a lot of four letter words (I talk to my self a lot, as I’m the only person that listens), my Grandma walked behind me and overheard a particularly juicy bit of profanity. Angered that I would use “such filthy language,” I apologized sincerely for my vocabulary. I went on to say that I was merely sickened by the “media whore Celine Dion,” when my Grandma interrupted me with “WELL I NEVER!” and stormed out of the room. Confused, I began searching her living room, and found five CDs. Four of them were by that very same media whore.

I could have used that story in the embarrassing moments post, as my Grandma has a very good (and unforgiving) memory. The dinner table was not the most comfortable place for the next few days.

I hope that the camera showing in the bottom right of this picture is actually a Canon! LOL!

Celine, staying true to her word, did retire – with exception to a song that came out afterwards on the greatest hits album. And a couple of special concerts for special causes. And the tabloid scandal of Rene’s gambling problems. And, just when we had almost gone a month without seeing her, she put her face back in the spotlight by showing up at the Sept. 11 benefit concert. Because, after all, we love her so. Strangely though, all the time she stayed away from the concert stage, the media train continued to roll. And when the media gave up, she put herself right back in it.

The golf incident.

Professional golfer Kerrie Webb, pictured just after winning the 2000 Nabisco Championship, jumped into the pond on the 18th green. Celine, making sure that her presence was known, also waded into the water trap to congratulate her. If Webb knew that Celine would have been joining her in the water, she would have brought her driver and beat the ugly bitch down.

Renewing the Wedding Vows in Vegas

It baffles me when I try to think of how much money that dumb broad must have: and it amuses the hell out of me when I see how she spends it. The renewal of Rene’s and Celine’s wedding vows was the most outlandish ego serving festival of them all, sickening on so many levels that millions of people in the Middle East killed camels just because they were involved in this fiasco. Incase you missed it, Celine and Rene were carried in, wore ridiculous costumes, had camels and… ah, fuck it. Look at the pics – they say a lot more than I care to type.

Wow we look so much alike!!

MUSH! MUSH! FORWARD, YOU LAZY BASTARDS! MUSH!

Vegas hotel rental: Bloody Expensive
Stupid hair-do for the wife: $200
White robes for all the men: $500
Butt-ugly gold sparkly dress for Celine: $1000
Marrying Celine Dion twice in a life: HAHAHAHAHA… LOLOL…. HAHA… ha… ah… damn priceless from where I sit, fatso.

However, of all the stupid shit Celine has put us through, the worst of all of her whoredom, are the tales of her attempts to become pregnant.

The doctor says I’m not allowed to puke up my meals while I’m pregnant =[

As great as Celine’s career was, she wanted children to feel complete. And of course, Rene wanted another child to molest. The child was fertilized by the magic of science because there was no way Rene was sticking his dick in that ugly bitch ever again. Even worse than the imagery of Rene and Celine getting it on is the gruesome details Celine gave the whole world about her turkey-baster impregnation. What’s more, Celine has another embryo in a freezer, so we’ll have the pleasure of listening to Celine’s artificial lovin’ once again. For those of you that haven’t seen the kid…

Just as pretty as the parents.

Of course, a child this magnificent and important and godly needs a baptism. Apparently, Celine wanted to keep the baptism a private family matter: that’s why she rented out Quebec’s most famous church, the Notre-Dame Basilica (the one the tourists get their pictures taken in front of), ordered the closure of adjacent streets, chauffeured over 250 guests in limos (including the assistant coach of the Montreal Canadiens), and of course, paraded the child throughout the streets for all the fans to see. Humble as can be. And, to keep this very private moment close to her family and loved ones, the event was broadcasted all across Canada in two languages.

Rene: Hey, Pastor-reverend-guy, watch your hands. That’s my child to molest.

Now, as time has gone on, one has to think, “When is she going to start making music again?” Friends and foes, Meatheads and Whatever-Dudites, assholes and asshats, I’m afraid the time is upon us. Put in your ear plugs, turn off your radios, and for the love of God, cover your eyes. The beast has returned.

What a surprise!! Celine with Barbara Walters!!

In a Barbara Walters 20/20 exclusive, Celine shared all the details that I so thoroughly searched out today. I read countless crappy fan pages, and Barbara condescend it all into a 12 minute segment. Bitch. The only thing I learned is through the interview is that Celine has signed a music deal worth over $100 million dollars to play in Vegas 200 nights a year for 5 years. They’re building a special auditorium for her and her alone, and it works out great for everybody involved. Celine can get up onstage 5 nights a week, she can stay home with her kid all day, her husband Rene can continue his expensive gambling habit, and most importantly, she won’t be coming to my town.

And, to the delight of bleeding ears everywhere, Celine’s new song debuted on air. To everybody’s surprise, it’s about love for her child.

Before I sign off by putting a loaded shotgun in my mouth, I’d like to apologize on the behalf of Canada for allowing this vile fucking creature be exposed to the world. I am truly, truly sorry – and I hope nothing like this happens again. I don’t know what it is with Canadian music – all we have are crappy females and Neil Young. Oh yeah, Nickelback and Default are from here too (I actually partied with Default on New Years), but the true representatives of Canadian music are Sarah McLachlan, Alanis Morissette, Shania Twain, and Celine Dion. I poke fun at the US of A quite often, but it’s fairly obvious that my home country of Canada has some serious issues. I’m all for equal rights, but I really wish these Canadian “songbirds” would shut the hell up.

I’ve done a lot of cursing today, and I’ll admit: there is one thing I like about Celine. When she sings, she punches herself in the chest. I’m hoping that one day, she’ll be able to stop her heart with the pounding action.

So, in summary: Celine, you’re a stupid ugly fucking cunt.

More Musical Mayhem: Missy Elliot | Ludacris | J. Lo | Britney Spears

-Chad "fouff has some issues"
fouff@whatever-dude.com
AIM:foufforama
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