Now that the holidays have long since passed, and we’ve all gotten over sharing pleasant tidings with one another, we can go back to the business of gawking at celebrity fuckups. And thank God for that. All that peace-be-with-you, auld-lang-syne garbage was making me downright cheery. I thought I was going to be sick. Thank you, Justin Bieber, for bringing the perpetual sneer back to my face. I was starting to miss it.

Biebs was caught speeding down a residential street in Miami Beach in a yellow Lamborghini. When police pulled him over, he was uncooperative, failed a field sobriety test and eventually admitted he had been drinking, smoking marijuana and was taking prescription medication. Over the weekend, he was released from jail on $2,500 bail. I’m sure this will blow over relatively soon, and he’ll be back to the business of making shitty pop music and storming off stages like a drama queen in no time.

I mean, good for him. No matter how much he sucks, he should be given the same treatment under the law that any one of us would face in the same situation. Sure, he’ll have a better lawyer than any of us could afford, but, hey, that’s America for you. When this is over, and he pays whatever nominal fine or serves whatever circle-jerk community service he’s sentenced to, we should accept that he served his time and should be allowed to get back to work.

More importantly, though, it’s imperative for us as a nation that he gets back to work ASAP. His shitty pop music is good for the economy. I don’t have the figures in front of me (I never have figures in front of me when I write these things, just stacks of more-or-less sorted Magic: The Gathering cards and used cereal bowls), but I’d imagine it takes a lot of people to make the Justin Bieber Machine work. There are managers, press people, producers, writers and label liaisons at the top of the food chain. But let’s not forget the blue-collar guys (and gals) who keep Biebs’ gears well-oiled (I swear that wasn’t a pun). I’m talking about the sound and set builders and pyrotechnics and lighting people who put in many hours of labor to make a scrawny, floppy-haired kid from Canada look like a demigod on stage. There are people who drive the trucks and buses to get all the equipment and dancers and sound people from show to show. There are also a lot of creative people at work, such as photographers and graphic designers who shoot his press shots and lay out his album artwork (because much to the amazement of all of us, even now in 2014, they still make physical albums).

That’s not even taking into account his merchandising. People need to design and manufacture all those T-shirts, mouse pads, posters, what have you. Then someone has to put them in boxes and ship them to places to be processed. And then those things have to make it out to stores in towns all across the country, where people by this garbage for their tween-age children. Then there are also all the arenas across the country who sell sodas and popcorn and whatnot to his adoring fans. And then there are all the local hotels that have to put up his crew and the press people who follow him around. And speaking of press, think of all the bloggers, music journalists and gossip columnists who get paid to write articles about what Bieber is having for breakfast or whether or not he’s dating Selena Gomez or whatever. I mean, I’m getting paid right now just by typing this. You may think Bieber Fever is lame, and you’re right. It’s so, so, so lame, but it’s probably as important to the United States as whatever the Federal Reserve is doing with the interest rates…and probably a lot easier to understand.

So when someone as famous as Justin Bieber has a run-in with the law, you’re right to pay attention, but not because you want to condemn some stupid kid for doing something stupid. Hey, he’s 19. I bet you were a fucktard when you were 19, too. You were. Just own up to it, and you’ll feel much better. You’re probably still fucking up now. Hey, it’s OK. I do too. I’m reasonably certain many of us have driven a car when we shouldn’t have. We just never got caught. That could be just because we had blind luck on our side; or, more likely, we were driving a beat-up, dull-gray Hyundai and not the most conspicuous Italian sports car in the world…in yellow, no less. Hopefully he’s learned a lesson. Next time he drinks and drives, maybe he’ll just take the hooptie for a spin instead.

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