Dear Mr. Bieber (Can I call you Justin?),
Being an entitled jerk can be fun. Trust me, I vaguely remember being two. That whole “mine” phase, I am sure, was enthralling. You are not responsible for much at that age, mostly trying to stop going to the bathroom in public, which at 19 you are still trying to master (remember the bucket incident? Because we all do). Fortunately for us, we have all grown out of our entitled phase because it really is not endearing.
There is so much wrong with the stunt you pulled last week. For starters, the whole drunk driving thing. I get that you blew a .014 (according to TMZ, the most trustworthy news source, I know), which is like the equivalent of drinking two-thirds of a shot, but you have been to Florida enough to know they do not play around with that. Even if that was not so bad, you were simultaneously high on pot and Xanax. Your toxicology results look like that of a Lohan on a quiet night in. Get it together. Beyond that, blocking off a street so you could drag race in Miami Beach? Between the botoxed bimbos and old Jewish ladies, no one in Florida can drive! It is literally a daily scene from Death Race. But most of all, this behavior screams “egotistical brat.” For decades, the Canadians have shaken their heads at stereotypical American behavior, and the tables have finally turned. Or maybe we have turned you into one of us. Either way, why can not you be like one of those kids from Degrassi. Look at what happened to the wheelchair user, and that was just the wheelchair user! He survived a school shooting and still became Drake. You can make it through this.
I do not think you need rehab. I think the simple solution is you just stop acting like an idiot. I know, I know, your parents are enablers and everyone around you is using you. Same with anyone in the entertainment industry. Your story is not unique, but your precedent as supreme fool is. All we have control over in life is our decisions, and you are the Titanic post-iceberg of your own life.
I remember when I was a kid, I once accidentally spat my bubblegum into a Japanese businessman’s hair trying to blow a bubble in Las Vegas. I don’t actually know that he was Japanese, but excuse my 6-year-old self for racially profiling. The fear and humiliation I felt from the single cold-hearted stare from my mother that said “you are such an idiot and I hate you right now” as she tried to pull gum out of the hair off a very pissed off Japanese businessman (he was mostly bald, he shouldn’t have freaked out like that) was enough to ensure that I never did something so stupid in public again. I feel like no one close to you has ever called you an idiot for being such a public fool. I am sure someone will eventually, but until then, enjoy the sense of entitlement most of us only experience when we are two.