Justin Bieber left the Miami Courthouse one repentant androgynous boy. Don’t let the leather pants and the climbing on top of his SUV and the waving to the public fool you, Justin is quite contrite. In fact, before he left the long arm of the law, he narced on his mom for being the provider of the prescription meds he takes along with his drink and his weed to make himself a better driver. He folded like a little lesbian accordion as he fingered his mom for feeding him Xanax. Like most animals on the small side of their breed, he suffers from an immense amount of generalized anxiety. You would too if a bird of prey could dive from the sky and pluck you from terra firma without warning. I’m not sure the doctor recommends taking the Xanax with Sizzurp and weed, but he’s not getting it from his doctor, he’s getting it from his mom. Like most former pregnant teen runaways, she has a degree in street medicine. I think she can legally perform surgeries in El Salvador.
Justin Bieber faced the judge in Miami this morning after his DUI and expired license and street racing arrest and the judge gave him… $2500 bond. It was beyond exciting. CNN landed a helicopter on the courthouse rooftop with thirty-seven television reporters to cover the Justin Bieber arrest after somebody at Time Warner noticed that not a single person had watched CNN for the past six years. Justin was represented by Roy Black, the defense attorney famous for getting William Kennedy Smith off on his rape charges 20 years ago, and more recently getting Rush Limbaugh sentences to a couple rounds on the golf course for scarfing up ill-gotten Oxy. Justin didn’t say a thing. His hair gel also remained quiet. Somebody rightfully advised him not to flash gang signs of flip off the judge to keep his street cred with the homies because he’s not actually black or going to prison and he’s starting to scare America.
Lesbian Hobbit Justin Bieber was arrested for a DUI and drag racing in Miami Beach earlier this morning. It seems that the tiny tyke was racing his yellow Lamborghini on a residential street with his C-list rap buddies when the cops came by and inquired as to the drunk looking midget behind the wheel of the Italian sports car. The police administered a sobriety test on the little cock weasel and he failed. They’re running more tests to determine just how fucked up he was and if his inebriation also included some drugs or prescription pills. If he’s convicted he could have his license suspended and face some fines and possible jail time. Though the latter seems unlikely since he only thinks he’s black. Justin has more legal resources than the entire D.A’s office in Miami, so I’d expect a fine, some bullshit apology and notice that Justin is checking into rehab next door to Chris Brown. While the entire world awaits their own purchase of authentic Justin tears collected from his jail house backdoor violations, meh, we’re not so lucky just yet.
Police investigating lipstick lesbian troll doll Justin Bieber’s involvement in a fiendish egging incident may have to get another search warrant to check his phone. We told you about Justin’s house getting raided by police looking for clues about his neighbor’s house getting egged. The cops took his phone, (which may or may not have Canadian dong pics in it), but Bieber refused to give them his password. Cops have tried every combination they can think of but nothing works. His usual passwords of BOYS69, DILDOME, TINYPEEN, and SELENABEARD weren’t it. The cops could take on Bieber’s team of five-thousand attorneys and try to get a warrant to make his cell carrier hand over the goods. It’ll cost the police a shit ton of money to get this done, but they could make it up on the back-end selling the undressed Bieber photos to TMZ and Pederasts Monthly. Personally, I think the police have more important things to do than unlocking Bieber’s phone, like accidentally shooting him in their next raid. I miss classic police justice.
Now that he’s retired or on a break or hiding from the Los Angeles Police Department or whatever bullshit he and his people want us to believe, Justin Bieber has been traveling across North America with his crew of hanger-ons and coattail riders with the sole mission of getting their dicks wet wherever his plane lands. Earlier this week, before they hit a strip club in Miami and were toking cigars in Cuba, Bieber and his Egg-Gate fall guy, Lil Za, were in Colorado for some skiing, and the singer posted this photo of his ass in Za’s face to Instagram. Bieber’s caption read, “u ass leep?” but it might as well have said, “Pucker up, pal” because Justin’s ass would have an Air Jordan in it if he weren’t wealthy and famous.
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.