I want to feel sorry for Justin Bieber. He’s clearly suffering from something– depression, anxiety? He’s married now and can’t make music or leave the big house he owns. Now he’s posted a long piece on Instagram trying to explain himself after years of being arrogant and awful to everyone he’s known and to strangers. He’s blaming his parents’ divorce. Listen, he was so rude as a kid the first year he was at the Grammys, you had to wonder how he’d been raised. Since then he’s wrecked homes, spit on people, said stupid. mock-worthy things. He has no credibility in the adult music world. He’s home making slippers, for sale. He should take his money and go to college, or get a tutor, or a staff of tutors.
Here’s his mea culpa. I hope he feels better soon. In the next Instagram post, he looks fine, no mention of this diatribe. In the one just before it, he’s playing rap music and holding a diamond bracelet? ring? tooth grill? for examination. Let’s put it this way, he’s not reading Sartre and joining Greenpeace.
