Speaking From the Grave: A Scribe to Justin Bieber

Justin,

I am not a fan, but I am a lover of music.  I am not a racist, but I am concerned when reminded of inequality being my reality.  

Therefore, I am compelled to lean the mirror of consequence in your direction.  Hopefully, by the conclusion of this scribe, you will see the reflection of your immature actions, and the impact these exploits have on others.

Feeling untouchable is a natural characteristic of being young.  Being reckless to the point of squandering the lifelong success that only a select few get to experience is simply self-destructive.  Through your eyes, Usher, P-Diddy, and Jay-Z may be the norm for elders that pulled themselves up by their own bootstraps, to become the musical stalwarts they are today. 

But, the words before you were written by your reality check.  You see, my son and his children will probably never know the American dream that you publicly toy with as if it was no more than a hobby.

I was born and bred in this country and I feel somewhat accomplished to have lived to be 46 years of age.  At 27, I lost my rights as a first class citizen.  I am a first time offender who lives in a world where taking a polygraph exam means, “we know you did it,” but they will allow you to believe they just need you to ease their suspicions. 

Here are some examples of how this works:

“Mr. Bieber, are you a pothead?”

If you answer is ‘yes’ and the polygraph indicates you are lying, your word wins because you just confessed.  Making a case against you that much easier.

Let’s try it again:

“Mr. Bieber, did you egg your neighbor’s home?”

If your answer is ‘no’ and the polygraph indicates you are lying; the machine wins.  Now you’re a liar – giving authorities probably cause to search for things that will bury you in a court of law. 

Do you understand how this works, Justin? I’m sure you’re thinking I’m just young and living.  Making mistakes comes with the territory, right?  Well, you are living; living in a country where you are simply one poor choice away from being in a situation where there is no right or wrong answer; only the answer that concludes what you know to be your life.

I know the extents of your self-induced thug image are misdemeanor offenses.  I just can’t understand why a Mickey Mouse Club alumnus would desire to be a hooligan when there is a paved road to riches for youngstas like yourself.  Just look at your fellow alumnus.  Justin Timberlake.  He figured it out and hasn’t turned back since. 

By the way, I still have not introduced myself.  I am the rapper that didn’t make it.  I’m the artist who paid my dues in the studio; invested in recording equipment; sold tee shirts to promote my label, P.O.T.U.S. (Products of the Urban Streets); and the performer for some of the grittiest audiences known to make a rapper become a M.C. 

My passion for this art worked against me when a complete stranger sold 12 more strangers on the theory of my hip-hop image to be a viable reflection of a murderer.  The state of North Carolina knows me as, #0255136, but you can call me, MannofStat.

Why me? You might ask.  Well, you fan base is predominantly young white Americans.  A following that consists of future presidents, senators, governors, judges, and lawyers.  One way or another, these people are influenced by what you do on and off the stage.  These people are six degrees of separation from my grandchildren.  So you need to tighten up, my man.

If your lewd endeavors are a proverbial cry for help, then help yourself by reaching out to some grounded youngstas.  Conscious brothers like Kendrick Lamar and J-Cole can add balance to your life on and off the stage, simply through sharing their awareness of batons, Tasers and bullets. 

The profound understanding of the American dream through their life lenses may be the wake up call you need.  If not, you might end up reflecting on your life from inside of a concrete box, as if it was a Disney fairytale.  Ya heard?

Always 100,

MannofStat

Copyright © 2015 by Leroy Elwood Mann