Don’t expect Anne Geddes to warble her pipes. She supplies the photos, Celine Dion supplies the warbling in Miracle, Ms Dion’s latest attempt to hammer down the throats of her fans that she loves babies and she can pop out babies using her geriatric undead husband’s tadpole juice. So here she is, posing with babies less than a month old, babies that have their hair colored and all so that they coordinate nicely with Ms Dion’s dresses in the photos. If such exploitation of infants and Wal-Mart muzak is legal, maybe it’s time we all perform a bilateral tubal ligation on her while she’s asleep or something. Anything to stop such horrendous projects again, surely.
This CD is filled with popular anthems directed to lullaby fans, weepy new mothers, and people who sit in elevators just to sigh at the beautiful muzak piped in day in and day out. Ms Dion sings like an anemic waif, passionless and hollow, but that could be due to the health complications that arise from her skeletal self trying to pop out at least twelve brats a year. There is no fun in this CD at all, just an overly serious Dion insisting that she loves babies, we should too, and oh yes, buy this CD and give her money so that she can invest in baby-making technologies that will allow her to become a perpetual baby factory. Or something.
Listening to this CD makes me feel like I’m trapped for an eternity in an elevator that won’t stop piping in muzak. What happened to the cheesy fun tunes and catchy music? This CD equivalent of Celine Dion using her children as cheap sweatshop labor is evil and needs to be destroyed at once.