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.















