It means "a person who engages in pederasty."
Don't you hate when the dictionary does that? Of course I had to look up "pederasty," and when I did on dictionary.com an ad for MySpace popped up, offering the perfect metaphor for the harsh reality Bieber is facing. Which is exactly what Magary's profile of Bieber is all about - you know, whether he'll survive teen pop idol stardom or die there, forever doomed to "Where Are They Now" episodes on VH1 or, worse yet, the life of Macaulay Culkin.
Remember when MySpace was huge and inescapable. Like Justin Bieber? Even if you hated it you had to acquiesce. Now MySpace is running ads on dictionary.com. I think I'll say a prayer for the Biebz tonight. That's when he puts in work - or play - according to Magary, who failed miserably at his mission to turn the well-cloistered, newly-turned 18-year old into a real man (no drinking and no titty bars, say his publicist) but gained some serious insight along the way. Like the fact that Bieber's handlers didn't want him to know that Bieber was probably the culprit behind the dicks drawn on the studio grease board. Or that Biebz admits to having had beer before, but says he's never lost control - because a manchild in his rare position must keep his industry guard up at all times. His struggle to be a real boy has been usurped by his label's mission - and, by extension, ours - to make him a man.
Oh, btw, pederasty, as defined by dictionary.com, is "sexual relations between two males, especially when one of them is a minor." Relax, it's just a metaphor.
But allow me to digress: The best scene in the story is when Bieber holds an impromptu listening session for the guys of West Coast Customs, after they deliver his tricked-out Mercedes Benz Sprinter van to his studio. Magary perfectly describes something that every music journalist has no doubt wrangled with during private studio listening sessions: Whether or not to succumb to the head nod.
They all crowd around Bieber, marvel at his gold chain that's long enough to rig a mountain bike, and nod their heads to the beat. Bieber also starts nodding his head. Soon everyone is nodding his head, like white people at a company karaoke night. Once in a while, someone will pull out the jazz hands to punctuate a drum fill. Occasionally one of the West Coast guys will erupt in laughter, as if to say, This is so awesome that all I can do is laugh hahahaha!
I'm the only one not nodding, and I start to worry that I'm being a dick by not nodding. Bieber is sitting at the console, soaking up everyone else's nods, getting the validation he's looking for, and I'm the lone holdout. I'm not sure he notices or cares, but I feel like I'm breaching an unspoken rule. I don't want to look like I'm faking it, so I don't nod. I genuinely like some of the songs, especially "Boyfriend," but I have to watch my expression during the tracks where Bieber raps. His flow is slower than prostate cancer.
Read the whole thing.
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