Dear Carmen,
I watched the video you sent me yesterday. Frankly, I’m not sure what you’re having trouble understanding. What you have on your hands (I don’t have proper hands) there is a profoundly confused individual, completely in the dark vis-a-vis his sexual and sentient identity. I’m supposing your incredulity arises from the boy’s idolatry of one Justin Bieber. Now-and this may surprise you-everyone on earth doesn’t share your taste in music. Taste is subjective, believe it or not.
I have a limited insight into the psychology of human beings, but if pressed I’d say that the boy’s deification of The Bieb has a two-pronged impetus. One part is certainly sexual, as the boy’s bewildered, self-deluding sexual identity has gravitated to the finite, pelvic-thrusting image of Justin Bieber as a simplification of his complex multi-consciousness problem. The other motivation is platonic. The boy displays a reverence for Justin Bieber’s talent, drive, and love for his mother. Whether Justin Bieber possesses actual talent or is instead a carefully orchestrated animatronic brainwashing device employed by a conjunction of failing music industry oligarchs is up for debate. But what’s wrong with trying your best and loving your mom? No argument there.
Not to mention, you liked some awful music when you were thirteen. You could have supported an African child for an entire year for the amount of money you spent on Len, Lit, Nelly, Sisqo, and 3 Doors Down CDs. What’s happening there.
I’ll text you at midnight.
Sincerely,
Reality
baby pictures of famous dictators 