Dear Justin Bieber, Stop Paying For Sex

Justin Bieber

Dear Justin Bieber,

I've defended you for a while in light of your douchebaggery going public. And you're making it really hard to feel sorry for you now.

Listen, I get it. The world has wronged you — really, it has. People have compared you to a lesbian since before your voice cracked for the first time. Music critics give you undue flak when you're actually a pretty talented guy. (Seriously, your voice is velvety and your drumming is sick. You should get more kudos for that.) You're struggling to be taken seriously as an artist and grow into your own identity as a man, and you have to do it under a microscope and harassment from TMZ sources. I get it. As rich and young as you are, your life isn't all roses. I can't empathize, but I can understand.

That said, there are some steps you need to take to clean up your act — or at least cover it up better. Really, when Miley Cyrus' life decisions look wiser than yours do, you've got problems. Trust me, I dabbled in PR and I'm an expert on a lot of things, like dessert tasting, dreaming of ways to shut up my neighbors' troll children and singing "Bohemian Rhapsody" in the shower. Here's what you need to do.

Cut off your dad from your cash and your celebrity.
Your dad leeches off of you for money. (Don't believe me? Ask where he was and what he was doing before you turned 15 and had a record deal.) If you're going to support him, your safest bet would be to just open trust funds for your little brother and sister, so you know where the cash is going. And dude, he looks like Vanilla Ice without the irony. Just stop. Get a better role model.

Tell your mom to stop using you for press.
She leeches off of you for publicity for her pro-life propaganda. Since most of your fans are female, it would serve you well to support the freedom to do what they choose with their own uteruses. Not that most of them even have their periods yet anyway, but still.

Stop hanging around Selena Gomez.
Let her get a career of her own. Older audiences only know her as "Justin Bieber's girlfriend" or "Justin Bieber's ex-girlfriend" or "Justin Bieber's trick" or whatever. Let her find her own voice without using your voicemails in her songs, and let her get her own press. Stop acting out to impress her, because all it does is make her look like a saint and you look like a sinner. And the truth is, the reality lies somewhere in between. Plus, neither of you will ever move on if you're both in constant contact. Cut the cord, brah.

Kick Lil Za, Lil Twist and any other Lil' douchenozzles out of your mansion.
They've brought you nothing but trouble and wrecked cars. Okay, and maybe Lil Za took the fall for the drugs in your house. That's not fair. Take responsibility for your own life and let them take responsibility for their own housing. KEEP READING

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Take care of your pets.
They may be your only truly loyal friends. Stop leaving them in Europe and giving them away to fans.

Get better confidentiality agreements and a private investigator ... or better friends.
Those photos don't leak on their own. Find out who's releasing them and enforce your contracts ... and cut off the guilty parties.

Stop paying for sex.
I know it's tough because most of your would-be groupies are underage. But dude, they have older sisters. Sure, you may start some familial in-fighting, but that's a lot less traumatic to your public persona than hiring chicks by the hour.

Don't do drugs.
I know no one ever says no to you, and that's a problem. But you need to say no to weed, Molly and whatever else you've been dabbling in. Don't even worry about what it's done to your reputation — bro, you're a ProActiv rep. Look what it's done to your face.

Stop saying "swaggy" and take a break from tattoos. And pull your goddamn pants up.
Seriously, in five years you're going to look back and wonder why you ever thought any of these were a good idea. Especially the pants part. Because wearing pants to begin with is awful, I know. But wearing sagging pants that make you look like you're carrying a heavily soiled diaper underneath? That's a travesty.

To use your own words, believe.
That things will get better. That you're in control. And to use Cher's words, in life after love. Because Cher's an example of how to make a career last longer than the lifespan of a Galapagos tortoise.

Yours truly,
Jess Sager