Too much, too soon.

We expected him to be a decrepit has-been in middle age, addicted to his drugs and his faded fame, but we didn’t expect him to flame out quite this quickly.

Blame us. The music industry. We preyed on this naif and wanted to believe we could profit yet not be responsible.

But you can’t have it both ways.

Kind of like Kurt Cobain. The cash cow should have been taken off the road. But who’s gonna do that?

Kind of like Chuck Lorre and Charlie Sheen. Portrayed as an impetuous dictator, at this late date who do you believe was at fault? Lorre was willing to walk from his star, music business people are not.

Scooter could have fired Bieber, but then how would he get all that Wall Street money?

Even worse, what if Justin Bieber had run over some innocent bystander in his Lamborghini? Never mind kill a passenger.

That’s entirely possible, just ask Vince Neil. But that was back before everybody had a cell phone camera and privacy was out the window, before we knew everything about you and your fame was based on YouTube views as opposed to the machinations of power brokers.

Then there are the tattoos. What I find funny about ink is you do it to rebel, to establish your personal identity. But if this is so, why don’t you leave yourself clean?

But that’s America, where everybody’s a follower, gossip rules and the real powers are never outed.

Come on.

There was the fiction that Justin Bieber was talented, that he was gonna last forever.

But even I didn’t think he’d crash and burn this fast, it’s just too much of a cliche. It’s like Amy Winehouse dancing to her death. You can’t save some people, but do you have to lionize them?

At least Amy Winehouse had talent. But Bieber is a flash in the pan receptacle of all that’s wrong with the younger generation and the Internet hustlers, where a beautiful body and an airy head are trumped up while those who gain an education or drop out and learn how to code run circles around the entertainment idiots.

Sure, rock stars have been O.D.’ing since the term was coined.

But at least those people stood for something, even if their deaths were useless. What does a “musician” stand for today?

What we’ve got here is a nitwit from north of the border believing he’s got urban cred and living like a renegade who’s above the law. If we put it in a movie it wouldn’t sell, because everybody would say it’s too cliche.

But the cliche is the music industry wants to milk these people while accepting no responsibility. Everybody’s an independent contractor but they don’t get to own their albums. Does the label insist their charges have health care, open IRAs? Of course not. The acts are fungible entities here today and gone tomorrow and the laugh is on us, because we keep buying the product again and again and again.

Justin Bieber is no better than the housemates from “The Jersey Shore.” He can sing a bit, but he’s famous first and foremost for his exposure. And as he grows up, he’s no longer cute and we don’t want to pay attention.

Isn’t it funny that Scooter calls his operation “Schoolboy Records.”

Lou Pearlman made his acts famous too, but you never saw Justin Timberlake getting arrested.

But this is the way we like it.

In an era where all the movies feature comic book heroes, we’re addicted to the real life flick, wherein a nobody from Canada gains overnight stardom and self-destructs.

And they remake the film for every generation.

That’s right, Justin Bieber is no different from New Kids On The Block.

But now we’re all watching the movie 24/7 on the Internet.

What’s next, ten or twenty or a hundred bucks a year to watch the travails of a wannabe?

Oh, that’s right. We call that “The Voice.” Or “American Idol.”

Pray for Justin Bieber.

He needs it.