Ah, to be rich and tiny. Justin Bieber’s youthful success denied him the teen beat downs that would’ve normally turned the music loving midget into a bitter record industry executive or a twink prostitute with rings on his head from where customers didn’t use coasters for their drinks. But, no, Bieber moved right into protected wealthy parent-free stardom and hell if you don’t know the result. I think spoiled rich gender ambiguous kids have been doing lousy shit for forever. It’s only recently that technology has allowed them to share their self-indulgent shit-eating grins with the entire world in half a second. Bieber pulled the daily double of pissing his initial in the snow in Aspen by day, then flying to Miami to make it rain with $75K in single dollar bills he ordered up at the King of Diamonds strip club party for his rapper buddy, Lil Scrappy. All of Justin’s friends seemed to be named Lil something and have in common the fact that the highlight of their professional career is getting loaded and living in Justin’s house rent free. I guess you could say having Justin as a pal wouldn’t be half bad. You’d probably get free hookers and weed. If you didn’t mind telling Justin what a badass he was every couple of hours and pretend his obvious obsession with urine wasn’t such a big deal, you could probably have a decent hanger-on existence. Someday, the merry-go-round will stop, but there’s always somebody else to glom onto while you’re waiting for Behind the Music to contact you and tell all the nasty Caligula type shit you saw.
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