It was 2007, when one of the biggest boy bands of all time officially disbanded. 1.8 million records of N*Sync’s last album sold – and they earned hundreds of millions of dollars across two tours for this record.
And then as the dust settles, you wonder why it didn’t hold up.
Why did N*Sync decide that it was time to throw in the towel and call it a career?
Well, because they didn’t.
Mr. Justin Timberlake did.
Because he was an A talent, surrounded by a bunch of people that were stuck in B talent purgatory. There was no way that guys like Joey Fatone, or Lance Bass, or Chris Kirkwhatever were going to break out like Justin.
Because they didn’t have the it factor, baby.
They were in the flyer position for the star cheerleader. ya’dig? Their job was to hold this motherfucker on their shoulders as carefully as possible. If they managed to do this successfully, they got their paycheck and a few of the leftover crumbs from the golden plate.
But that golden plate?
That was Justin’s.
Justin got tired of having to share.
He realized that there was a reason why he was in front of the rest on the big magazines, or why he was positioned at the tip of the stage while the others flopped around like dancing monkeys.
It was because people like Justin and I? We can do this shit on our own. That’s right, we’re tall enough to reach for the stars without the hands of those lesser than us pushing against our asses all day long.
So one day, Justin took a sip of reality and the rest? History. 32 million albums sold, 176 awards won, and 5-Star Michelin pussy for life.
Who wouldn’t want that?
The flyers – that’s who. Sir Gable, Sir Bellator, Sir Renault – fuckin’ Tag, Ether, The Generation Bleh, Starboy – these motherfuckers are willing to conform to how their leaders direct them because it’s safe, right? Paycheck in the bank, the crust off the bread and they’re good – because they could never handle the heat on their own.
Why do you think Sir Vant created Vayikra? For the movement? Oh shut the fuck up.
It was so that he could use them to springboard to the next level.
Those sorry motherfuckers in Vayikra – eternally devoted to prayer and sacrifice with the expectation that the fruits of their labor will be waiting for them on the other side when in fact, there ain’t no other side that belongs to them.
The difference between Vant and I, however, is that I’m not hiding from the truth behind the curtains. I made my point because I know what I’m capable of.
Sir Vant doesn’t know his ass from his elbow.
I’m still here, flesh and bone, center stage headlining like the goddamn rockstar that I was born to be – but that doesn’t mean I won’t allow a few openers to get my party started.
So come get a couple more minutes of spotlight, flyers.
And when we’re all done, I’ll see if I can get all you motherfuckers front-row seats to the rest of my world tour.
No thanks needed, baby.