Dear Justin Bieber
Dear Justin Bieber,
Please call us, multi-award-winning, white-toothed colussus of wholesome American teenage pop. We are extremely concerned.
No, we’re not worried about those near-rioting hordes of screaming teenage girls – the “Beliebers” – who follow you everywhere like a pack of zombies. You know, the ones who look like they could swiftly rip every follicle of your adorable sweep-around hair out of your scalp and pop it into their panties if your security detail hadn’t been hardened by a few tours in Afghanistan.
Nor are we anxious about those packs of Jocasta-like middle-aged mums – the ones who throw their bras you on stage in some terrifying reverse-Oedipal mash-up of the maternal and reproductive instincts – or those making brazen sexual advances towards your security chief just to help their crack-addict-like daughters get a little closer to you.
In fact, we’re not concerned about your safety at all. We’re worried about ours.
Let us explain. You’re only 17 years old. You’re one of the most successful musicians of the century, and your perky blond-haired presence has now extended itself worldwide. Already, we see your weirdly androgynous face smiling wide-eyed out of the pages of Indian newspapers.
Estimate of your earnings? $100 million. You’re now one of the most Googled people on the planet (239 million hits when we tried), with over one billion YouTube views, 6.3 million Twitter followers, 16.5 million Facebook friends – and they’re growing every minute.
It’s only been 15 months since the release of your debut album, My World – a cute, plastic-but-fantastic blend of soul, R&B and pop – and the title already feels less like an invitation to a feel-good Bieberland of perpetual sunshine and more like a foreign policy ambition. Your power, wealth and influence are so vast you could probably conquer a small Middle-Eastern country just by tweeting the idea to your fans. A sprawling global army of hormone-fuelled tweens awaits your command.
Your mother, Pattie, says you were put on Earth to bring light and inspiration to the world (she didn’t mention the money). But don't beliebe it. We say: No. No one man, or teenager, or whatever, should exert such power of the minds of the world’s youth.
Thing is, not only do you come across in interviews as down-to-earth, humorous and well adjusted, but also just nice. “I want to be normal,” you recently told Vanity Fair. “Well, not normal, but I want to have some sort of normalcy. I don’t want to go crazy.”
Well, Justin, we hereby would like you to go crazy. Start off with the occasional off-stage tantrum, before proceeding to alcohol-fuelled on-stage naked-rage breakdowns. Apparently, Usher has been advising you on how to handle fame. From now on, we want you to get your advice from Mel Gibson. It’s the only way to safeguard global peace and security.
See you in rehab,
GQ India
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