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An Open Letter To Justin Bieber

Dear Justin,

You self-entitled little midget bitch.

I think I speak for most people over the age of 16 when I say that. I was more or less cool with your existence through all of this hype over the past year or two. The Twitter trends. The constant news blurbs. The fan meltdowns. Whatever. It was cool. My sub-generation’s ‘teen idol’ was Michael Jackson, and I remember the hysteria that went along with that. While MJ >>>> you by a mile, and I hope even you and your overinflated ego can admit to that, it was still OK that you’ve been around. The kids don’t really know about MJ other than the fact he was some weird guy who died. So I couldn’t hate on you.

That is, until the Grammy awards.

You got several nominations, which are several more than you really deserved. You basically got nods because that is what the PR machine does. They get award nods for people who put out crap but burn up the charts with that crap. So of course, you didn’t win. And you were a bad sport about it, too, being quite open about your disappointment and feeling of loss.

News flash: your songs were designed to be catchy, throwaway pop hits for ten year olds. You don’t even sing that well. You’re basically famous because Usher saw dollar signs in his eyes when you auditioned for him. It’s like the Johnny Bravo episode of The Brady Bunch…where they autotune your voice into oblivion, but it’s cool because you ‘fit the suit’. Right now, you have the look that all the ten and eleven year old girls love these days. And as you and these kids finally hit puberty, your appeal will be lost, and your fans are going to move on to real music and laugh about the time in 6th grade they got into a twitter war with Esperanza Whatsherface over your underdeveloped midget ass.

It’s already starting to happen. You have no class, and eventually that will count for something. Eminem can get away with being a dick because he’s a talented, creative dick. You are not.

You better grow some humility soon, or no one is going to feel sorry for you when you’re lying in a gutter next to Leif Garrett, wondering what the hell happened…when Leif vomits on you and passes out.

It doesn’t take that long, either. Seriously, kid, earmark your last hundred grand for college or something…if you can get in.

Oh, and please tell your fans to stop doing this (see below). Thank you.


Meet Dr. Lulzington’s Future Wife, The Queen Of Vagina

Dr. Lulz has finally fallen in love. Meet Majela ZeZe Diamond, Queen Of Vagina.

As you can see, Majela is a poet, a goddess, and the Queen Of Vagina. As she sings so demurely:

I am queen of vagina,
Queen of vaga-, vagina

Vagina, vagina,
Penis, penis, penis, penis
Promiscuous, promiscuous

Majela has a Christmas message for the world. The adult world.

I know she’s going to do Santa this Christmas, but Dr. Lulzington isn’t jealous. Majela is promiscuous, and Dr. L loves promiscuous people.

Come to the doctor, Majela. Santa can join in for a sexy threesome. The more the merrier.

Christmas genitalia for all!!!!

I Keep Getting Arrested For Drug Possession!

Dear Dr. Lulzington,

I am a very, VERY famous person. I can’t tell you who I am, but I can say that I am definitely NOT Paris Hilton. Get that idea out of your head immediately, OK? I need your help because I’m like always getting arrested for drug possession. It’s unfair. Lots of people smoke pot and do cocaine, but I’m like always getting singled out because the cops are jealous of my celebrity status. What can I do?

This is so not hot. I’m not Paris Hilton, I swear! Really!


Harris Pilton (see?)

-Dear Harris,

Like, Dr. Lulzington agrees. Dr. L himself moves every 48 hours because the po-pos will follow his every move otherwise. Lots of people are involved in pimping, and lots of people have huge drug manufacturing operations, but of course they have to harass yours truly because of his mega-celebrity status. You came to the right person.

The solution is simple. You’re famous and, like, SUPER rich! Get a personal assistant who’s willing to hold for you because they’re even more into drugs than you are. As the poem goes:

If you’re super, super rich,

Hire yourself a drugged-out bitch,

Turn them to a cocaine mule,

This way they can play the fool.

Oh, wait. Dr. L just wrote that now. But you get it now. Drugged out assistants are hot. Take advantage. Good luck and happy partying!

Dr. Lulzington’s New Favorite Cartoon: Betty Boop Gets High

Dr. Lulzington loves how Betty Boop suddenly becomes a dentist and ‘accidentally’ leaves the nitrous on. Dr. Lulzington has a phrase for that: “Tuesday afternoons”.  (That’s when Dr. L’s dentist is off, so he can break in and use the tanks he can have a quiet place to unwind)


The Doctor Has Some Songs For You!

Hey readers,

As you know, for the past couple of months, Dr. Lulzington has been involved with Myndjack Radio Idol. He is currently in the Top 3, and later this evening will find out if he has indeed made it to the finale (or not).

The doctor has posted a couple of songs on his brand-spankin’ new YouTube account. Here they are! Thanks, and remember: The Candy Man can.

Where IS Doctor Lulzington?

Hi! Dr. L is still around!!! He’s just doing different stuff.

For one thing, Dr. Lulzington has been devoting a lot of his time to MyndJack Radio Idol, the best singing contest in the universe! Want to sample some of Dr. L’s work? Look no further:

Dr. Lulzington (or, more accurately, the guy who plays Dr. Lulzington) is also working on a new site called Dumb Internet Comments. As you can see, it’s being updated on a daily basis. It’s also safe for work! Yee-ha!

As far as Ask Dr. Lulzington goes, there will be infrequent updates. But Dr. L isn’t going away anytime soon.

F)(&!^ Magnets: How Do They Work?

Dear Dr. Lulzington,

OK, so I was on YouTube the other day, and I saw this video by the Insane Clown Posse.

It was about f—in’ miracles, dude. It brought up all these questions in my mind. Like f—in’ magnets. How do they work? I stay up at night f—in’ thinking about that s–t. And f—in’ rainbows after it rains? Don’t f—in’ give me that scientist s–t because it’s pissing me off! Shaggy’s little boys look just like Shaggy. Violent J’s little boy looks just like him. WTF is that about, huh? Dude, it’s f—in’ freaking my s–t out.

Magic everywhere in this bitch. A muthaf—in’ pelican tried to eat my cell phone. Rang a lang a lang!

Do you believe in f—in’ miracles?


—Dear Juggalo,

Dr. L does believe in muthaf—in’ miracles, trick. There’s magic EVERYWHERE in this bitch. The magic of drugs. Dr. Lulzington is guessing that you consume about two grams of crystal meth per day? Dr. L is going to suggest that you double your dose. Chase each line of crank down with two tabs of Ecstasy and lots and lots of weed.

Does that seem dangerous to you? Don’t fret. It’s OK. I’m a doctor. 😉

P.S. Dr. Lulzington does not f—in’ know how magnets work. But it freaks his s–t out every single day. Happy 4/20, bitches!

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