Opinion | Justin Bieber is partnering with Tim Hortons and it’s like Drake teaming up with Dollarama

And just when I thought Justin Bieber was done making bad decisions.

Is the Canadian superstar having money problems? Is the pride of Stratford — no offence, Lloyd Robertson or Peter Mansbridge — the victim of a blackmail campaign? Has tattoo ink seeped into his veins and broached his blood-brain barrier?

These were questions I pondered on Wednesday morning while reading a news release that was clearly dictated by Lucifer: “Justin Bieber and Tim Hortons announce collaboration to bring new menu and merch items to restaurants in Canada and the U.S., starting with limited-edition Timbiebs Timbits.”

Remember when Thor unwisely trusted Loki? That’s what this partnership reminds me of: two Canadian superheroes joining forces to rule the universe, with one (Bieber) having more to lose as the other (Timmies) punches way out of its weight class.

What’s next? Is Dollarama going to team up with Drake?

According to the release, this coffee-and-bubblegum pop partnership was “inspired by Justin’s fanatical love of the Tims brand.” Really? I haven’t been this confused since learning Tiffany Haddish stuffs her dill pickles with Jolly Ranchers. Then again, Bieber has a fanatical love of the Toronto Maple Leafs and grotty streetwear even hobos would reject. So maybe it makes perfect sense he’d be infatuated with a beloved coffee chain that serves up coffee that tastes like liquified Play-Doh.

Starting on Nov. 29, customers can purchase a “limited-edition selection of Timbiebs Timbits in Chocolate White Fudge, Sour Cream Chocolate Chip and Birthday Cake Waffle flavours.” If that sounds delightful, enjoy. Me, I’d rather melt down and make cupcakes out of Duracell batteries.

But, whatever. This is not about my hatred of Tim Hortons. It’s about Justin Bieber’s love of Tim Hortons. As he noted in the release: “Doing a Tim Hortons collab has always been a dream of mine. I grew up on Tim Hortons and it’s always been something close to my heart.”

I get that nostalgia is a powerful narcotic. Justin, I’d like to tell you a story. When I was a little boy, my mom would sometimes make me a peanut butter and sugar sandwich. I don’t know, maybe we couldn’t afford jelly. But at the time, I quite enjoyed these sandwiches because, well, I was young and I was hungry.

If my mom had rolled up a Knob Hill Farms flyer and coated it with sprinkles, I would have happily gnawed on that. The point is: I didn’t know better.

You, sir, are now 27. You are rich enough to buy Stratford. You’ve dined inside the finest restaurants on this planet. If you had a hankering for any dessert, you could get a Michelin-starred pastry chef from Paris to fly to wherever you were. And he or she would not bring a blowtorch and recipes for Boston Cream or Old Fashioned Glaze.

But now you’d rather push a new line of “Timbiebs” on this great nation?

That’s the worst product name I’ve heard since Bunghole Liquors.

What has your management team done, Justin? After overcoming so many scandals — DUI, egging a neighbour’s house, suggesting Anne Frank would have been a Belieber, peeing into a bistro bucket, spitting on fans, trying to cross an international border with an undocumented monkey, vandalizing historic ruins in South America, rocking dreadlocks — I thought you were done with the bad decisions.

You married Hailey Baldwin, one of the sweetest, smartest and most grounded young celebrities alive today. You settled down. You got your act together. You vanished from the bad PR metaverse because there was nothing left for tabloids to ridicule.

But now you’ve joined forces with Tim Hortons and this is me shaking my head.

Whenever I stroll past a neighbourhood Timmies, I don’t see patrons who look like they are about to blast “Peaches.” I see soccer moms and gummy geriatrics who got their first taste of java during the Great Depression. I see people who are down on their luck and up on gustatorial apathy. I see people who don’t care they are noshing on blasé baked goods or questionable hot and cold brews that are no taste match for the competition in a two-block radius. Loving Tim Hortons is like loving arsenic.

Just two years ago, Bieber took to Instagram to rail against Timmies because he didn’t like their new coffee lids. I was conflicted at the time, mostly because I was in favour of lids that leak so people would not be forced to drink as much of this swill.

But now Bieber is back on the Timmies Express and the scariest two words in Wednesday’s release are “starting with …” It seems Timbiebs are just the beginning. Who knows what the “merch” will entail, but I would not be surprised if there are hoodies with Timbit-sized holes cut out to expose highly caffeinated nipples.

In one official photo from this godforsaken collaboration, Bieber is sitting at a wood conference table behind a box of “Timbiebs.” He is holding one to his left eye, looking like a half-soused jeweller inspecting a rare sapphire. I lost my appetite until April.

I do not get why Justin Bieber has jeopardized his brand to partner with a chain that makes double-doubles that are quadruple vile.

But make no mistake, Tim Hortons is the big winner. To younger customers, Timmies is now cooler than it deserves to be. I suspect sales will explode come Nov. 29.

As for Justin Bieber, it’s time to do some hard thinking and buy another monkey.