So you sit down at your booth, a replica from the Jack Rabbit Slim?s restaurant, and your waiter or waitress comes up to you wearing their black and white suit and tie and asks you if you'd rather have a Mr. Brown, a Mr. Pink or a Mr. White to wash down your Big Kahuna Burger with Jackie Hash Browns on the side?
But what's a Mr. Brown, a Mr. Pink, or a Mr. White? You waiter or waitress tells you that such a tasty burger is going to need an equally tasty beverage to wash it down. They go on further to inform you that a Mr. Brown is a chocolate shake, a Mr. Pink is a strawberry shake and a Mr. White is a good old-fashioned vanilla shake. You ask them for a Mr. Blonde just as ?Stuck In The Middle With You? comes over the jukebox.
A badass by definition doesn't give a fuck what anybody else thinks. They?re going to do things their own way whether you like it or not, that's a given. It's a large part of what draws us to these figures in real life as well as in pop culture. We revere them for being able to do all the things we can't, or at the very least don't do for fear of reprisal.
In the long tradition of monster mash-ups, Dracula versus Frankenstein, Aliens versus Predators, Katy Perry versus Lady Gaga, I submit the following battle royale for the very soul of teendom: Biebs Vs. One Direction. You may be asking how are we doing this exactly? Are we talking an actual physical brawl? A comparison of (cough) musicality? Or just strange, arbitrary, abstract notions that make one prepackaged, soulless, utterly contrived, and tuneless act better than the other? 
Something?s just go well together: Shoes, socks. Skrillex, deaf people. Shark Week, masturbation. But one perfect pairing has until this moment been left criminally unexplored: Eternally cool, sexually ambiguous, glam rock demigod David Bowie and his many classic duets combined with the testosterone laden, homo-erotically underpinned, cinematic trope of the buddy cop action movie. 