In a move that would make Hollywood disaster films look tame, a growing movement in the United States is petitioning for NASA to redirect its space exploration budget toward knocking an asteroid out of orbit ā so it can crash into Earth in 2025. The reason? To prevent the highly anticipated, albeit widely dreaded, return of pop singer Justin Bieber to the music scene. Ā«If weāre going down, we might as well go out with a bang,Ā» say the petitioners, many of whom believe Bieberās comeback could spell the true end of civilization. šā”
The 30-year-old artist, who has been notably absent from the industry since 2021, has sparked polarizing opinions with his announcement of a new album and world tour. Bieber, who spent his hiatus battling health issues, parting ways with his controversial manager Scooter Braun, and welcoming his first child, has yet to release a single hit in four years. For his critics, this hiatus was his Ā«greatest giftĀ» to humanity. But as whispers of new music began to circulate, some have deemed the news more catastrophic than global warming, rising inflation, or even the possibility of Kanye West announcing a presidential run. š¤¦āāļø
According to the petition circulating online, the plan is simple ā America should allocate its entire space budget to finding and targeting a sufficiently large asteroid. Ā«Letās not waste time going back to the Moon. Letās use those billions for something the whole world can agree on: no more Bieber albums,Ā» reads one particularly enthusiastic comment. The petition currently boasts over 2 million signatures and counting, with supporters ranging from disillusioned Gen Z TikTokers to middle-aged Ā«Belieber SurvivorsĀ» who endured the 2010s.
Critics, however, have accused the movement of being both melodramatic and scientifically ill-informed. Ā«Redirecting an asteroid isnāt just impractical ā itās reckless,Ā» says Dr. Emily Carter, an astrophysicist who has gone viral for her TikTok rants debunking the plan. Carterās warnings, however, have done little to dampen the fervor of anti-Bieber crusaders. Ā«You know what else is reckless?Ā» countered one user. Ā«Letting this man unleash another rendition of āYummyā on an already fragile planet.Ā» š
The cultural implications of Bieberās return have sparked heated debates on social media. Fans argue that his return represents resilience and artistic growth, while critics ā armed with Bieberās past controversies and auto-tuned ballads ā believe itās the musical equivalent of rebooting a bad sitcom. Some have even suggested alternatives to an asteroid strike, such as lobbying Spotify to cap Bieber streams at 100 plays per year or introducing legislation to ban world tours entirely. šā
Meanwhile, Bieber himself appears unfazed by the controversy. In a recent Instagram post captioned Ā«Letās Make 2025 Unforgettable,Ā» the singer is seen strumming a guitar in a dimly lit studio. The post ā which has garnered millions of likes and equally as many Ā«Please, noĀ» comments ā suggests that Bieber is fully committed to his return. For many, this post was the final straw. Ā«If heās coming back, weāre going out,Ā» quipped a petition supporter. š
As the debate rages on, the movement to weaponize an asteroid is gaining traction not just as a protest, but as a broader critique of American priorities. While some argue that the plan is the ultimate act of nihilistic comedy, others see it as a cry for help from a society drowning in crises. Ā«We could solve poverty or tackle climate change,Ā» said one sarcastic tweet, Ā«but why do that when we could end everything and blame it on Justin Bieber?Ā» š
For now, the fate of both the asteroid and Bieberās comeback remains uncertain. One thing is clear, however: the internet never misses an opportunity to turn existential dread into content. Whether Bieberās music can survive the fallout ā literal or figurative ā is a question only time (or NASA) will answer. Until then, the world waits with bated breath, Spotify playlists on pause, and eyes on the sky. āāØ
Chord F. Discord, the Beethoven of Buffoonery, is a self-taught expert in music who once claimed he could “play the kazoo in four languages.”
Born in Crescendo, Indiana, Chordās first brush with fame came when he accidentally entered a yodeling contest thinking it was a pie-eating competitionāand won both categories.
Chord F. Discord: proving that laughter, much like a poorly tuned ukulele, is truly universal.
