Dear fucking piece of tantrum-throwing shit,
I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. I mean, it’s not like you were looking at my phone or some other unforgivable, punishment-worthy offense.
Well, Princess Ladybeater, you are just on top of the world, aren’t you? You not only appeared on the Grammys, but you won as well. Bully for you. It must be your contrition and generally sorrowful demeanor that brought this bounty upon you.
Here’s the thing: as much as I already hate you for the heinous act you committed, it’s what an obnoxious, cunting fuck puppet you are that really seals the deal. That’s actually impressive. You are such an unrelenting twat about the fact that you beat a woman, that it makes me hate you even more than the actual beating.
You are truly an artist.
You’re apparently quite the artist with the ladies, too. Your new pickup line is certain to get you all kinds of vaginal intercourse.
I mean, please, I urge you to carry a towel with you if you intend to netherly soak women like you are no doubt doing.
You are unimaginable in your levels of bullshit. You are entitled, you are antagonistic and you don’t. fucking. get it. It is completely infuriating. All this, and you got the girl. Yes, in truly heartbreaking fashion, Rihanna is apparently back with you. Just like too many other victims of abuse, she went back. And the only lesson you’ve learned is to not leave a visible mark next time.
The minor silver lining? Whereas usually society in general is completely fucked, in the case of you (barring some pretty significant exceptions) society is the only thing that has managed to keep you down where you belong. It’s the entertainment industry that seems to be perfectly comfortable with what you did and what you are. It’s genuinely as though they’re afraid of offending abusive people.
[Quick sub-open letter to the Grammys:
Oh, you’re the victims of all this, Grammys? ARE YOU?]
Guess what, artist? You sing and you dance. You’re a dime a fucking dozen. This is your legacy, this is who you are and you are reacting to your feather-lite slap on the wrist as though you’ve been dragged through Dachau. How fucking dare you.
Congratulations on your Grammy. I hope you get dick ebola.
Love and kisses,