What the Justin Bieber urination incident (topped with a chaser of Bill Clinton abuse) teaches:
if you're a young male star with a young male entourage in tow, everything you do is cool.
About 23 years ago, I was an extra (hired, but not used that day) on a critically-acclaimed film noir partially shot at an old, ornate apartment building in L.A.'s Wilshire District. Nearby was a storage area, where the Young Male Star and friends practiced throwing a football at a glass window. Presumably it was a game to see how to throw the football at the window without causing breakage.
Eventually, an older man came out and told the Young Male Star and his friends to stop. They stopped.
I saw this and kept silent; I didn't want to lose a day's pay and be blackballed from the casting agency who sent me on the job.
And, in retrospect, the Young Male Star (now middle-aged and still active in films) was blessed with living in a time where cell phones were few and primitive--and tabloid TV hadn't evolved (or devolved) into the TMZ era.