I had a dream that Justin Bieber--known as “the Biebs” to his fans, “the Babes” in private—and I went vacationing in Bora Bora. In the dream, we had awoken from a ravaging night of lovemaking and had built up quite an appetite. We weren't just hungry… I’m talking HANGRY (now officially recognized as a real word in the dictionary, as of two months ago, FYI). I left our private villa in search of food when suddenly, a storm of sausages began falling from the sky in every direction, urging me to go back indoors. I rang the doorbell just as a flying sausage grazed my face. Ding dong. Who’s there? JUSTIN BIEBER’S SCHLONG Y’ALL.

Did I just get dick slapped visually? Physically?

I can’t belieb Bae would walk out, cock un-blocked!

For better or for worse, my dream is actually based off of the true story. Like my dream, the Biebs really was in Bora Bora earlier this month when paparazzi snapped the pic. The pictures leaked online soon after, fulfilling the dreams of tweens everywhere. The images summoned an array of interesting reactions, including one from Justin’s dad himself:

“@justinbieber what do you feed that thing. #proud daddy”. 

Yup, that was a father to son tweet, indeed. I’m HANGRY. Hungry cause I mean…but angry cause WTF, Dad! And of course Twitter and the rest of the world went bat shit—This 'just in' (LOL) Bieber's dick everywhere! Read all about it! This is an inescapable dream, nightmare for some, a little of both for me. I wonder … how many tweens have Biebs peen pics stored away in locked albums, far from the eyes of high-surveillance parents, or who among them was bold enough to #MCM him? How long will that image circulate among us? Five years? 20? Will it exist on an alien’s DropBox 100 million years from now? Is the Biebs…immortal?

OK, but real talk. Let’s talk about the actual dirty stuff—like the media trolls with the nerve to zoom in on somebody’s privates, or the absolutely cuckoo responses from critics. In the unavoidable sea of Justin Bieber dicks, it becomes especially hard to see past the whole “dick” aspect, let alone the whole “dick in your face” aspect. We can’t have a serious discussion because of this HUGE distraction.

Just so you know, I’m no Belieber. What I refuse to believe, is that one of the world’s biggest superstars in the world could walk out onto an outdoor deck naked, and honestly believe he was alone. With a net worth of $80 million dollars, Justin is one of the highest-earning celebrities under 30. It would be silly not to presume a crowd of peeping Tom-like paparazzi are waiting outside to prey on your every move. So what in the world was Justin thinking? Here are some very possible possibilities:

Give the people what they want!!!

I’m just trying to make my daddy proud.

My dick is 100% real motherfuckas

                I...am a MAN!

                    Selena can suck it.

 

It is hard to speculate on the intentions behind such a stunt, and whether it was motivated by personal or business reasons. My guess is it was a little of both. With all things considered, Justin can think and say whatever his little heart pleases. I shockingly appreciate his ballsiness for doing it in the first place. The Biebs ain't naked and afraid like most of y’all.

Any woman or man who has the courage to sport their good stuff in broad daylight receives a gold star in my book. Too often are we ashamed of the skin we live in-SMH. Shame has been attached to nudity as a stigma since the beginning of time, as if some prehistoric judge united those words forever in holy matrimony. Divorcing the words creates twice the discomfort. When we see free-spirited beings like Justin, who behave and act shamelessly, it's both alluring and shocking. And trust me, if you’ve seen the image you know the Biebs has nothing to be ashamed of. But in reality, neither do you.

To continue in Bieber’s defense, try to imagine the extreme pressure of his everyday life. The brightness of the spotlight would drive any human to lunacy. It doesn’t help that Bieber came into manhood within this atmosphere, where he enthusiastically played and curated a “bad boy” image. Earning a position of masculine rank is no joke. Real men are made, not born--or so goes the conventional wisdom. The transition from pubescent boy to man inevitably meant proving himself as a man, on an international stage in an unkind world.

We should really thank Justin Bieber for satisfying a curious America, for opening the discussion to nudity and culture, and for allowing us the opportunity to shit so easily on his life, where we gladly took advantage of the goldmine of phallic euphemisms and puns at our disposal. To be clear, the obsession with celebrity bulges, and celebrities, and bulges, is not exactly the issue. Although, it would be nice to spend our time thinking about things that really matter. Let’s get a better grip, America.