Coming from the exotic state of Hawaii, this surfer boy has changed the music scene for all time. Bringing his unique style (just him and an acoustic) and delivering some of the most devastating lyrics of our generation, it is no wonder why jocks and beasies alike have joined forces to provide one of the most delirious and incoherent fan bases since O-Town. His albums each share a different story, whether it is the pitter-patter of rain on the roof of his million dollar home in Oahu, or hanging out on the beach, Johnson creates a deafening maze of lyrical profundity where only the attentive listener can unlock his veiled symbolism.

Johnson’s success was put on center stage this spring as he headlined the Coachella music festival with Prince and Roger Watters. I caught up with him before the concert to discuss his thoughts on his performance, “it’s just really good that people are starting to hear my voice,” said Johnson, “I feel like I have so much to say, and with my eclectic fan base, many ears are showing up to listen. To be honest I’ve never heard Prince’s music and I’m not sure who Roger Watters is, but I’m glad they have the chance to headline with me.” Johnson’s whirlwind road to success has been attributed to a never say die attitude coupled with a bad boy image that appeals to today’s youth. At a recent interview in Omaha, Johnson reflected on his place in the music scene, “You know, when I was just getting started I thought to myself ‘what do kids like these days?’ And after listening to the chart topping hits of the last five years it clicked, they like themselves, they like people they can relate to. Well today’s market is inundated with vapid lyrics and bro-culture, so I slapped on some collared polos, slipped into cargo shorts, and broke out the flip flops. The music just came naturally. I would pick an object in the room and just describe it. Kids don’t want to think about something, they want to be told what to think. I like to think I’m a mirror, reflecting my fan base.”

Really his brilliance comes in the fact he’s so obnoxiously stupid. He is the 40 foot statue erected in Dumbsville, worshipped by Game Cube playing football players with security issues. His posters are hung high in the rooms of vapid teenage girls, who cry while masturbating at the thought of being with those very same Game Cube playing football players.

To tell you the truth, I got Jack Johnson stuck in my head earlier this afternoon when I was walking home. Sitting in a puddle was a half eaten skunk; the smell was foul, his innards were blatantly spilling out of his belly. It was so gruesome that I couldn’t look away, like something out of one of Tarantino’s bloodier films the site of complete death was something oddly fascinating. Then a revelation struck me as I took a closer look at the insides of this furry creature… hundreds of flies had congregated, sucking the remaining nutrients of an already mangled beast. And that’s the madness behind Johnson’s success, those flies could go in search of more tasty treats, but the smell of festering death coupled with dead skunk was the most prevalent odor around. Like that dead skunk, Johnson’s appeal is that he is the lowest common dominator, something that isn’t very good or thought provoking, rather, it is the most available sound coming out of the airwaves, and dumbasses gobble it up like its candy. The scary thing is that the majority of people are dumb. Prediction, the first President to come out of Hawaii won’t be Obama… Johnson 12’.

God I hate that douchefuck.