Is it even possible to feel worse about yourself than you did after you saw Justin Bieber’s giant schlong? Definitely. You could inhale an entire buffet of food, have your mom call to say she wishes you’d been swallowed, and THEN look at Justin Bieber’s dick. Triple-whammy right there.
But what’s this? Here comes Usher, the guy who had that jam “YEAH” back in middle school and then decided to not have any other mega-hits outside of his Confessions album. Man that was a good album. I’m about to rock that shit today once everyone in this house fucks off for work, full-blast baby let’s get the neighbors pissed off to the tune of some hard-stroke babymakin’ music.
So how does it feel to know that Usher, a dude who is rolling in millions yet hasn’t been relevant since 2003, has a bigger dick than you? I’m a girl, so I’m pretty indifferent – the only thing I can’t keep my eyes off of are those pencil legs:
If you’re not filled with outrage, here’s a friendly reminder that Usher was the one who “discovered” Justin Bieber, which means without Usher we wouldn’t have Justin Bieber. That’s basically like saying without Usher we wouldn’t have cancer, or without Usher Donald Trump would be able to grow a full head of hair, or that if Usher suddenly ceased to exist people would understand the fucking difference between “their, they’re” and “there.”