It happens in every young celebrity’s life: They are discovered on YouTube, quickly shoot to superstar status; sell millions of albums; sell out stadiums; date other massive, similarly-aged pop stars; slowly lose their mind; get drunk and piss in a mop bucket; sleep with the occasional Brazilian prostitute; get arrested a few times in an effort to to cultivate a thug-life image; fail spectacularly, and then have a Comedy Central Roast essentially signaling the death of one’s career.
Remember when Justin Bieber appeared on Ellen and gave a very sincere, heartfelt apology for being a jackass for the last few years? Remember how nobody gave a damn because Justin Bieber is pop-culture’s dancing monkey. We don’t want sincere, heartfelt Justin Bieber! Either trash your neighbor’s house or soil yourself in a parking lot or GTFO. The second that Bieber began showing traces of humanity, it was over for him.
Want proof? Last month, Justin Bieber graced the cover of Vanity Fair magazine, and while this month’s issue with Caitlyn Jenner on the cover will probably be one of the highest selling issues of the decade, Bieber’s was the lowest-selling issue in 12 years (it might also have something to do with the fact that VF’s best writer, Joanna Robinson, is mostly only on the Internet version, which I suspect has seen record-traffic numbers over the last year).
At any rate, Bieber’s issue sold only 246,000 copies, the lowest number of copies sold since Will Smith appeared on the cover promoting Wild Wild West in 1999.
Bieber also lost 3.5 million Instagram followers last December in a purge of Spam posts, 53 percent of his Twitter followers are fake, and he’s apparently fallen far enough that he’s now being considered a judge for the next season of The Voice, home of formerly relevant artists Shakira, Maroon 5 guy, and Cee Lo Green.