I am currently on a self-imposed break from blogging, but as the father of a 15-year-old daughter and a member of a society that has found itself inundated by news of the increasingly-horrible meltdown of one of the world’s biggest pop stars, I find I can no longer contain myself. I have some things to say to you and you’re not going to like any of them but tough noogies, they have to be said.
I refuse to refer to you as “Justin Bieber’s Mom” for two reasons:
- You are an individual in your own right and you deserve to be treated as such.
- While it is true you engaged in what I am guessing was the worst three minutes of coitus of your life with a “man” named Jeremy (more on him later), and gave birth to a young man named Justin, you haven’t been a mother to the tabloid cannon fodder known as Justin Bieber. In fact, it would appear that Justin Bieber has hadn’t had any parental guidance in his life whatsoever.
So what gives, Pattie? I can call you Pattie, right? Thank you.
So what’s the deal here? I mean, you made this little, filthy-rich, rude, ungrateful, lesbian-in-a boy’s-underdeveloped-body, monster – literally – but now that the eggs have hit the fan, you’ve adopted a very unique approach to the entire pathetic debacle.
You’ve decided to do… nothing.
Actually, that isn’t entirely accurate, is it? After all you had this to say after hearing of your son’s arrest:
“I think so many people go into the entertainment industry with amazing Christian roots and they get influenced somehow, I ask that people keep me and Justin in their minds. I pray for him every day.”
“If Justin’s struggling, don’t kick him when he’s down or condemn him — pray for him.”
Prayer? That’s what you came up with after reaching into your diamond-studded bag of parenting tricks? Pretty smooth, Pattie. After all, prayer has worked out pretty well so far. It certainly worked wonders for Jesus…
I realize I have no right to judge you; I know nothing of being a single mom. Or of being addicted to drugs. Or of being an alcoholic. In your own words:
“I started self-medicating with drugs and alcohol. Everything sort of came to a head by the time I was 17, when I tried to commit suicide. I pray that what happened to me will happen for everyone, for people that are struggling with pain, depression and hopelessness.”
I am a little confused though: How does someone who went through the levels of Hell that you did grow up to become someone who, for all intents and purposes, turns her back on her son?
And yes, I realize Justin is an adult in the eyes of the law and that should be good enough for everyone else – but it isn’t, Pattie. Far from it. Justin Bieber has been behaving like an unholy terror for months now and the madness has escalated from altercations with paparazzi to $75,000 strip club visits, verbal assaults on fans, primate abandonment to egging a neighbor’s home to the tune of thousands of dollars and police involvement.
I know you don’t want to, but please consider that last issue for a moment, Pattie:
YOUR SON WAS DETAINED BY THE POLICE AND HUMILIATED IN THE EYES OF THE WORLD FOR EGGING A NEIGHBOR’S HOME.
Short of starring in a series of Donkey Shows entitled: “Justin Bieber Kisses His Own Ass For Once!”, it couldn’t possibly get more pathetic for your son, could it?
I’m going to wrap this up, Pattie. I know you’re probably busy wondering why you were excluded from the
photo op Save Justin summit going on in Panama right now, so I’ll leave you with these parting thoughts.
1) You sold your son to a guy named Scooter. What else is there to say? I love this guy’s reaction to this whole mess: “Been a long day. Bottom line is we are defined by how we handle adversity. Be there when it counts. Love fully in good times and bad.”
What? Your client is a disaster, pal! He doesn’t need love, he needs an ass-whuppin’!
Which brings us to the long-absent father, Jeremy. Children need a father-figure. Period. What did you give your son, Pattie? A world-class D-Bag who actually partied with his son hours before his arrest.
2) You should have stepped up years ago, Pattie, and paid this guy to get as far away from his son as possible. We both know it would have worked. I’ve seen Jeremy Bieber in action in my hotel; he actually played the “Do you know who I am?” card for a free room. Unfortunately for him, the entire world knows his son is worth billions so his plea fell on deaf ears. I’ve met many a douchebag in my time, but your ex is in a class all his own.
And so are you, Patti.
3) This is your son we’re talking about here. I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you are the type of woman who would actually love someone who slid out of your body. Do you?
Your son needs you, Pattie. Not Usher. Not Scooter Braun. (What kind of jackass goes by the name “Scooter”, anyway? Is this guy twelve?) Justin needs his mom. When times get tough and the wolf is at the door, no matter our age, we all want our mom. Patti.
As a bellman in Niagara Falls I’ve met many a young person who idolizes your progeny. This post is the result of an encounter I had with a young girl of six today. This was what she had to say about your son while wearing a t-shirt with your son’s face plastered on it:
“He needs his mommy. Where is she? When I get scared, I need my mom to make things better and help me understand things. All Justin’s mom cares about is his money! I think he needs to go away with his mom and just be a normal kid again. Why doesn’t Justin’s mom love him anymore?”