Monday, 4 July 2011

Dear Jared Leto

I can't quite believe the fact that you've managed to escape an appearance on these pages thus far, but so it goes. However, I finally broke today, and I'd very much like to borrow your ear for a moment so that I can tell you about it.

You'd be amazed at what it was that set me off - and, by extension, just how much you've been allowed to get away with over the last few years. Bafflingly, it wasn't your complete and utter lack of acting ability over two long decades which provided the trigger. It wasn't the fact that, having grown up in the 90s, every single girl I've ever been with has been obsessed with My So-Called Fucking Life. It wasn't the jaw-droppingly offensive presumptiveness of your "hey, look-at-me!" impression of Kurt Cobain on Youtube (please note: you will never, NEVER get that role), or the quite hilariously awful 'performance' you put in to ruin the otherwise fairly serviceable Panic Room.

No, it wasn't any of these things. Equally, it wasn't your galling pomposity in forming 30 Seconds to Mars, by far the most pretentious, witless and po-faced act to ever fool a million confused teenagers into thinking holds any depth or meaning by dint of some moody lighting and the sight of you emoting like a constipated shampoo model. It wasn't the fact that your idea of melodic projection seems to constitute going from faux-whispered low-note to over-dramatic high note in every fucking line ("We are KEEEEIIIIIINGS, and QUEEEEEAAAAYYYNS!", etc etc). It wasn't even the clatteringly awful video for Closer to the Edge ('A Bartholomew Cubbins Film'), which is literally the most appalling thing I've ever seen - probably even surpassing actual footage from the liberation of Dachau.

No, it was a single, simple image wot dunnit. So, just in case you were wondering whether the issue of your credibility and integrity as a serious musician is still up for question -



PS - I imagine it must feel great to have achieved your lifelong ambition of being screamed at by pubescent girls for such a sustained period of time. Aside from an appearance on Dateline NBC's To Catch a Predator, I still await a mash-up of a 30STM vid with your brutal pummelling at the hands of Ed Norton in Fight Club, the axeing by Patrick Bateman in American Psycho and Requiem For a Dream's arm-sawing sequence with gleeful relish.