Groban and Buble in Cleveland Street Fight

(MP) – After a long night of crooning in Cleveland, singer Josh Groban was looking forward to saying his prayers and turning off the lights at the Courtyard Marriot next to the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame where he’d been staying for the last three nights. But what he didn’t realize was that Michael Buble had something else in store for him: a street fight sing-off.

Buble and Groban are well known for exciting senior citizen women in ways their husbands can’t, or are no longer interested in. Their crooning voices take them back to the days of poodle skirts, saddle shoes, and milkshakes-a simpler time where they listened to the likes of Frankie Valley, Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, and sometimes Bobby Vinton. Although these men have cornered the over 65 female market in music, they aren’t so comfortable sharing the throne.

Michael Buble is well known for his rat pack martini drinking style that make him irresistible to the Cadillac driving Boca Raton Grandmothers that swoon over him in the club house, or in private while driving around in the refrigerated land ships they call cars.

Josh Groban strikes a chord with the God Fearing women of the heartland and beyond whom although obviously sexually aroused by his Kenny G-esque looks and overpowering falsetto, stand firmly in denial to that accusation and claim only to appreciate his God given gift: his voice.

With Groban and Boublet both in Cleveland singing their hearts out for their fan base, Buble thought it was high time he settle the score.

Michael Buble waited outside the stage door at the Cleveland Arena holding only his microphone and a Grey Goose martini-extra dirty. When Groban stepped out and began signing autographs to the barrage of overweight women sporting stretch pants and over-sized Disney character t-shirts, Buble plugged in his amp and began to sing. The mist came rolling off Lake Erie as Buble stepped out of the shadows. His voice: electric. The women: silenced. Groban: enraged. Josh ran his fingers through his hair and tried to recall the advice Ted Haggard had given him when he feels his inner monster being awakened: breath and dream of penis. So he did just that. The women started to rise from their shock and began bouncing gently to the beat of Buble. Ever more engaged by the moment, the movements of their gargantuan breasts under their Disney tees breathed new life into the likes of Daffy Duck, Bugs Bunny, and Yosemite Sam. As Groban looked on breathing and dreaming his special dream, he decided that even though he was sans amplifier, he would meet his aggressor with his sword of choice: his song.

Michael Buble and Josh Groban sang deep into the Cleveland night. Reminiscent of the showdowns in 8 mile, these two crooners gave their fans a night to remember. They traded off with such powerhouse hits as The Little Drummer Boy, and Can You Hear What I Hear. From there they moved into more edgy material like, Grobans rendition of Hold My Hand from Hootie and the Blowfish, and Buble responded with Maria from West Side Story. They truly ran the gamut until the sun came up over the Great Lake, and all the ladies ran full speed in unison to the Shoney’s buffet breakfast in the warehouse district. It was then that Buble slipped back into the shadows from which he came, and Groban stepped into his bulletproof hybrid SUV, popping in his favorite Jonas brothers CD, It’s About Time, as he drove swiftly to his bed and bible.

Neither artist was available for comment. But with their touring schedules mirroring each other we can only wonder if this feud is for real, or just a carefully orchestrated publicity stunt. Either way the fans are getting their fill.