You know, I find this whole thing sad. A facade. A sham. Because at the end of it all, we know that NSYNC, with their more generic-leaning blastbeats and larger catalog of forgettable tunes, will never *touch* the power cavalcade of the Backstreet Boys. I mean, focusing on these two powerhouses, and of course dismissing the imitators to the mighty boy band throne, such as Five, 98 Degrees, and inversely the Spice Girls, one of the true auditory statural judgements, and those of refined musical tastes, can unequivocally proclaim the Backstreet Boys to be superior in terms of quin-tense, whereas the rest of them only break their bones upon Justin Timerblake’s muscular back. Oh, sure, Justin, as well as Chris, Joey, JC and Lance, can all sing and perform in a way that is complex, and… y’know, the same way that a computer can express emotions when given the educational television specials of PBS to analyze long enough. *But*, for a true test of dominance, power, and sexitude, the mighty warriors of the Backstreet–AJ, Howie, Nick, Kevin, and Brian–proclaim their throne with such ferocity that a competition is merely for show; it offers no real comparison. Backstreet’s back, but in a way that they never left after a scroll through the careers of NSYNC these days, and you’ll find admittedly *one* titan of industry awash in a sea of nobodies. However, peruse your way to the Vegas Strip, the desert cavalcade of lights and debauchery, and there are give *glorious gods* of unity that perform, night after night, still resplendent in glory.

I really wish I could get Backstreet Boys in Vegas tickets.