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Keith Urban
Ah yes, Keith. Pop country's whitest white boy who glues his own pubes to his sultry model-esque cheekbones. While not media-whoring himself out to hype but standing beside his wife for social prestige Keith can be found writing songs about "women" while pushing some sort of bullshit sensitive male paradigm:
"She laid her heart and soul right in your hands and you stole her every dream and you crushed her plans. She never even knew she had a choice and that's what happens when the only voice she hears is telling her she cant. [You] stupid boy"
I'm not buying it. But I will give him credit in that he avoided becoming a Alan Jackson style douche. Or a Brad Paisley style pseudo hippy asshole douche. Or a toe-curling Wigga style pseudo-patronizing Darryl Worley douche. Keith is his own sort of douche. A beardy-weirdie, frightfully Australian, incredibly easily embarrassed and depressingly suburban post-grunge flannel-wearing sort of douche. Which makes him pretty fucking special. I just wish he'd come clean about his sexuality. For example, he's backstage at some gig, drunk on white trash beer. There’s a knock at his door. He opens it. Germaine Greer marches in, pushes him to the floor, gets his cock out, fucks him. And then fucks off. And that’s how I want to see Keith go. Having his brains brutally fucked out by the architect of modern feminism.
Ah yes, Keith. Pop country's whitest white boy who glues his own pubes to his sultry model-esque cheekbones. While not media-whoring himself out to hype but standing beside his wife for social prestige Keith can be found writing songs about "women" while pushing some sort of bullshit sensitive male paradigm:
"She laid her heart and soul right in your hands and you stole her every dream and you crushed her plans. She never even knew she had a choice and that's what happens when the only voice she hears is telling her she cant. [You] stupid boy"
I'm not buying it. But I will give him credit in that he avoided becoming a Alan Jackson style douche. Or a Brad Paisley style pseudo hippy asshole douche. Or a toe-curling Wigga style pseudo-patronizing Darryl Worley douche. Keith is his own sort of douche. A beardy-weirdie, frightfully Australian, incredibly easily embarrassed and depressingly suburban post-grunge flannel-wearing sort of douche. Which makes him pretty fucking special. I just wish he'd come clean about his sexuality. For example, he's backstage at some gig, drunk on white trash beer. There’s a knock at his door. He opens it. Germaine Greer marches in, pushes him to the floor, gets his cock out, fucks him. And then fucks off. And that’s how I want to see Keith go. Having his brains brutally fucked out by the architect of modern feminism.
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