The Prequel to many Sequels

This is a story of a little boy that every time I see him or hear him it makes me want to pluck every hair off my body, including my nose, one-by-one or makes me want to rip out my eyes and fingers and toes and ears and any other removable part on my body.

His name:

Justin Bieber.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I hate you Justin!!!

Who are you!?

Why are you so famous!?!

Usher, what were you thinking!? You greedy jerk-head.

Okay, I've calmed down a little bit. Back to reality. Justin Bieber, right. What is the big deal with this kid. I don't even see the little 12 year old girl appeal to him.

First off, his sound. He sounds like a little 13 year old girl. When is the voice change gonna take place there J-Bags?

Second, what's up with the obsession with the hair. Okay, pretty sure he's not the first person to have a stupid little emo-cut. Let's calmer down now people.

Third, what are you doing acting like a little thug-nugget. Last time I checked you're a skinny little dweeb of a white guy. You don't need to be wearing saggy pants and high-tops and a flat-billed hat cocked to the side.

Fourth, why when you're on stage you're tugging on your "tinkle-dinkle" area, like you're freaking Eminem, or Marshall Mathers, or Slim Shady. What's that guy's name anyway?

Okay, there will be many more Justin Bieber blogs to come after this, so I better stop while I'm ahead on this little baby-faced, Alvin the Chipmunk sounding, makeup wearing fella.