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An Open Letter To Jared Leto, On The Occasion Of His Most Terrible Ensemble Yet

Dear Jared  Leto,

J-Rod, let’s talk. I’ve followed your career and your cheekbones and your 1000-yard stare ever since you were a flannel-wearing, illiterate teenage wastrel on “My So Called Life.” Your turn as Jordan Catalano — (“Y Kant Jordan Read?,” never forget) — the frustratingly vacant love interest of Angela Chase (remember how darling Claire Danes was before Latisse?) broke a million teenage girl hearts. Which is why I find it especially egregious that you’ve grown up to be the Jared Leto that you are today. The douche-y, guyliner-wearing Jared Leto that fronts MTV2 mainstay band 30 Seconds to Mars and insists on dressing like an utter and complete tool.

About that band? I have a theory that you’re just living out the life that you think Jordan Catalano would have wanted. I mean, honestly? I watch “My So-Called Life” now and I kind of wish Angela was into Brian Krakow instead of you. And we all know how annoying Brian Krakow was. Anyway, Jared, Jordan Catalano wasn’t the best and brightest — though he might have been the most bangable — so you shouldn’t be living your life around Jordan’s two-bit Kurt Cobain hopes and dreams. Quit now, J-Rod. You can always tell people you were big in Japan. And Hot Topic.

The way I see it, you had a responsibility, J-Rod, but you’ve forsaken it, content to wile away your days making crappy, post-grunge rock and flitting about in synthetic fabrics. Nobody likes synthetic fabrics. Nor do they like hair pompadoured and lacquered into a meaty wig upon your brow. Are you short? Are you overcompensating? Survey says you’re 5’10. That’s even tall in the actorly world! Which brings us to acting. Commmmme onnnnn. We can’t even get into that whole “Chapter 27″ mess.

Height and hair and bad part issues notwithstanding, your sartorial choices have been less than splendid. I can’t abide by your colored suits, man caftans and T-shirts that have been degraded beyond repair. Some steps in the right direction?

1. Stop dressing as if you are a rock ‘n’ roll hobo.

2. Distance yourself from eye liner. (And pervy photog Terry Richardson, too, while you’re at it.)

3. Get a decent haircut. The only people still rocking ironic mullets are Spanish soccer players, and they’re doing so because they don’t know any better.

But listen, if you’re still not convinced that, in the immortal words of Michael Jackson, “it’s time to make a change, I’m talking to the man in the mirror” (I mean you, J), I’ve got picture proof that things are looking really bad. Really, really irrevocably bad. Flip through this photo gallery and commence facing the facts immediately! it is not too late.

Yours,

Julie

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