Dear Justin Bieber,
I generally ignore the shenanigans of celebrities, but I’m making an exception in your case. Since neither your entourage or handlers have the balls to tell it like it is, allow me to enlighten you.
You are not the greatest thing to happen to music ever. You’re just another in a long line of mediocre singers who got big because girls and their sexually repressed mothers get wet thinking about you. There are more talented people out there who’ve put in their dues, and unlike you will go on to have long careers.
Before your voice changed you sounded like a chipmunk on helium, but at least it was distinct. Now you sound like every other generic pop singer who uses auto tune. You can’t hold a note if your life depended on it. There is nothing about your singing that would make someone stop and say ,”Damn, he’s got some chops.”
Contrary to what you think, you’re a redneck from Canada and no matter how many black people you hang with will change that. You think you’re hardcore street, but you’re punk ass wouldn’t last a second in the hood. If you didn’t wind up shot or beat within an inch of your life, you’d be turned out and selling yourself by the end of day one.
In case you haven’t noticed the only time you’re in the news is because of the latest douche move you pulled. You’re fifteen minutes are almost up and when they are you’ll be left with a legacy of being a spoiled brat, idiot, prima donna and wannabe gangster.
Sure you’ll have the money, but how long before you piss that away and have to resort to whoring yourself out on reality TV shows to stay relevant? In short Justin, chill the fuck out and exit stage left with some grace while you can.
Go to college and learn something you can fall back on when your fan base ages out and the next manufactured teen sensation takes your place. Don’t believe it’ll happen to you? Ask the Jones Brothers, Jesse McCartney, 98 Degrees, Dream Street, Billy Gillman, Aaron Carter and the countless others who came before you.