Excerpts From Justin Bieber’s First Sermon On The Mount
My screeching flock, silence your prepubescent squeals and gather to me and my smoke machine, for I have seen the light in the wake of my revealing February cover story exposé in Rolling Stone magazine and more recently this baseless autumnal babymaking allegation, and wish to bestow upon thee my great knowledge and casual Canadian wisdom! There’s also the alleged matter of my powerful seed producing unintended offspring, which I will address at the end.
Follow me, my children, and stray not from the path of Bieber. Those of you who stray and never return to the light shall be smote from this earth by lightning, hail and a living wall of Dodge Caravans, each packed with frothing, sacrosanct tweens and wide-eyed mothers who have long since succumbed to Bieber Fever. As their tiny, bedazzled claws rend the flesh from your bones, the last sound your bleeding ears shall hear will be a cherubic chorus of vengeful, autotuned angels praising my great name and the saintly Canadian people in the New Disney Latin.
PENANCE: If thou hast wandered from the path and seek redemption, recite eighty “Never Let You Go’s” and wash the filth from your soul with my new line of One Less Lonely Girl nail polish, now available at Wal-Mart.
On the United States and Countries Outside of the Great and Glorious Canada
When my bodyguard’s premature baby became ill and nearly died in an American hospital gulag, I laughed at him and cast the child into the sea. “Let it not suffer the broken American healthcare system any longer!” I proclaimed, before whisking he and his wife to our most magnificent Canada. Once there, I mounted his mate with the fleeting fierceness only a Top 40 mega star would know, and she became with child once again. When that child is born, it will be born a Canadian citizen in a blaze of warmth and light—as all Canadians are—and live out its life with free healthcare and socialized medicine as my heir and Messiah.
PENANCE: If you are an American citizen, I mourn for you and your evil land, as you are beyond my help alone. You must begin the Canadian naturalization process immediately and hope, in time, that you are able to complete our nefarious Twelve Feats of Canadian Citizenship and Strength. Only then shall you be reborn; only then shall ye be saved.
On the Termination of Babies in the Womb
Know this: Abortion is an abomination, and no tween nor teen nor grown man or woman can follow my path if they believe otherwise. “Everything happens for a reason,” I said in my celebrated Rolling Stone interview, and everything is part of my plan. All men and women are my children, and if you find yourself with child—wanted or not—then you are with Bieber, and a Bieber cannot die.
PENANCE: Forty-three “Baby (f/Ludacris)” and thou shalt name the child BIEBER, give it a foppish, unisex haircut and raise it as an androgynous drone for my Great Bieberite Army.
On Love Making
If thou dost not truly love a woman, enter her not from behind, nor from the top, nor even from the front. I have declared there can be no lovemaking without love, and so it shall be written and obeyed. If thou do love a woman, enter only as I would have you enter her: Without emotion, without light and without sound—and even then only if Usher is there to coach you through the really confusing parts.
PENANCE: Self-mutilation of the genitals, to be completed by the time “Runaway Love” finishes one play-through.
On Baseball Hat Placement and Fashion
Weareth the ball cap slightly to the side and precariously perched atop your scalp, so that it merely kisses the brow in a manner that would please my plutonic life mate and fellow teen star Selena Gomez. Do not bendeth the brim unless you wish that great calamity should befall you. Should the hat fall to the earth, pause a moment to reflect on your folly before stooping to scoop it from the dirt. To atone for this great sin, you must perform a great and fitting penance.
PENANCE: Beheading by thine own hand.
On False Paternal Claims Made by Desperate Groupies
Killeth that bitch swiftly, so that I may go back to frolicking in a pure and decent fashion with my life mate Selena.
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“You know what sucks about getting older? Your friends have known you for way too long. They’ve got too much on you. “
So many wonderful songs seem to have fallen through the cracks and all but disappeared.
More important than your real-life first love is the fictional first love you experience via your television set.
Well I mean first of all, it’s never a good idea to approach a hot black girl with an opening line about how much you love chocolate!