My letter to Justin Bieber

Dear Mr. Bieber 

You are the second celebrity I have written to over the last few months. Your friend Kanye "Yeezus" West found himself the recipient of my last letter, and you must trust me when I say he was more than deserving of this honor. 

I thought aisle 16 at Sears was certainly the best place to find a quality tool until I discovered you. The hardworking men and women at Craftsman have never created a tool quite like you. What a career! You were just a child when Justin Timberlake and Usher were fighting each other for the chance to sign you to a record deal. These are to of the most talented human beings on earth, yet somehow respected even by those who think their music blows long haired mountain goat dicks. So you get the deal, you become huge (not physically…my sister could kick your ass without putting down the scarf she was knitting). Girls throw themselves at you but when you get them to your hotel room you ask them if they want to get "Biebered." Do you have any idea how high that ranks on the douche meter? Off the charts homeboy! Do you honestly think Robert Plant (He was a guy in Led Zeppelin that did more cool shit on a Thursday morning in 1974 than you will ever do in your pathetic self absorbed life) would walk up to a chick and ask her if she wanted to get "Planted?" Jesus no! A real rockstar would have just looked at her with the eyes of a man who had ingested nothing but 12 year old scotch and beer for the past 8 days and the sheer presence of the man would have magically led her to some trashed hotel room. 

You actually threw eggs at your neighbors house the other day. This made national news, which is beyond sick and proves our nation is doomed, but that's another story altogether. You live in a gated community with 15 million dollar houses as neighbors. What kind of tool wrapped in a douche, wearing more makeup than my aunt who never leaves the bowling alley, throws eggs from the porch of your mansion to the porch of your neighbor's mansion? Seriously you walking tube of vagina ointment. Then, when the cops come to your house, they have a warrant for your security tapes but find every kind of drug you can think of. Wait, I take that back. Even your drugs are the douchiest drugs I have ever heard of. You are addicted to Codeine cough syrup mixed with jolly ranchers and grape soda? Jimi Hendrix would have spit that shit in your face and told you to pull your damn pants up. 

In summation, you are a tool, will almost certainly always be a tool, you act like a child even though you grew a few pit hairs and now claim to be a man, and will never satisfy a woman. Some things money just can't buy, you little bitch. 

Big Bob