Michael Bublé emerged from his annual 11-month-long hibernation last Sunday and immediately began judging the sins of mankind while also singing Christmas standards. The 43-year old Canadian crooner, who spends every month but December entombed within a 9-foot-tall egg floating in open water a few miles off the coast of British Columbia, was seen dividing up a crowd of Vancouver Starbucks patrons by their moral purity.
“‘Cold December Night’ was playing when he came in, and Michael started singing along,” Starbucks patron George Berlin said. “It was like two Michaels singing at once while he searched all of our faces for signs of goodness or wickedness. Really eerie, but kind of reassuring at the same time. Like going back home for Christmas and finding out that your old mail carrier got kidnapped or something.” Here Berlin stopped for a moment to collect his thoughts, before saying, “Actually, ‘Cold December Night’ is totally a Bublé original. That’s, like, the only song he wrote on the entire Christmas record. Weird.”
Starbucks declined to officially comment on Bublé’s reemergence, but several Starbucks workers at the Vancouver location where the Judgement occurred stepped forward on the grounds of anonymity.
“We get Bublé twenty-four-sev as is,” one worker said, “and that’s frankly a bit too much. I don’t think people realize that there’s only one Bublé Christmas record, and that’s the only one we have on rotation. I’ve tried to sneak Vince Guaraldi in there a couple times, but every time ‘Linus and Lucy’ comes on, my manager comes rushing out and tells me to change it back or else ‘he’ll know.’ Anyways, dude comes in singing and floating two feet off the ground and tells me in between verses that I have ‘covetous eyes.’ I gave him a cake pop in hopes that he’d calm down, but it did not work.”
From Vancouver, Bublé began a long and terrible trek eastward, flying at a speed of about 35 miles per hour to maximize the amount of time he could spend serenading and judging every person he encountered while still arriving in New York City in time for a performance at the Nov. 28. Rockefeller Center Christmas tree lighting. Scenes of desolation and yuletide joy were left in his wake, along with small-town locals both starstruck and perplexed by the singer’s role as arbiter of humanity.
“Is this why he just kind of vanishes until Christmas time every year?” Missoula, MT native Christine Johnson wondered. “Like, I know all about the egg and stuff. But the origin of the egg — that’s a real mystery, innit? And how did he know that, on the one hand, I do love freebasing but, on the other hand, I’m a friggin’ force in the soup kitchen I volunteer at, largely because of the freebasing? Stars, man — they really aren’t anything like us.”
Bublé declined to comment on his ultimate intentions when passing by a gauntlet of reporters and cameramen the Campus Times had set up just northeast of Erie, PA, but he did tell this reporter that “blood skies were in [his] future,” and that “city sidewalks, busy sidewalks, blink a bright red and green.”
