Sunday, December 19, 2004

why i love britney spears...

ok, let me begin by saying that it has absofuckinglutely nothing to do with her voice or her music. if i wanna hear good music or an excellent voice while watching barely legal, nearly-nude pop-queen dancing, i'll listen to christina aguilera, who not only has great pipes, and an excellent set of lungs, but also, through the advances of science and technology, a great pair of lung-covers as well. christina also doesn't try to down play or lie about what she is. she's a ho, and she is proud of it.

i think the biggest reason i love britney spears is for the simple fact that her voice does suck. if her voice was as good as christina's, or her songs even half as inspired, i would feel guilty pressing mute when one of her videos comes on, and cranking the ministry or chevelle.

also, if her voice was half as good as christina's, she wouldn't have to do all the dumb shit she does to keep herself in the public eye. now, i know, there is serious shit going down in the world and i should not be worried about what poor-white-trash gimic britney has pulled lately, but i can only handle so much depressing shit about so-and-so killing the-other-guy, and bombs and shit and pain in iraq, and the latest ass-fucking sans KY that dubya's gonna be giving me before i wish i could blow my brains out, and then, just when things seem their darkest: hey, presto! a shot of britney leaving gas-station restrooms bare foot, not once, but twice!

another reason i love britney is her complete and utter poor-white-trashiness. i mean, c'mon! i have lived among poor white trash. my dad and stepmom had that down to a science. and britney does, also, no matter how many millions she has in the bank. let me just say, if i had that much in the bank, all vestiges of poor-white-trashiness would be removed from my person. that is not to say that i still wouldn't be punk, and find ways to set the world's preconcieved notions on their ass, but i would never, ever enter a public restroom barefoot (i don't now, and i have almost nothing in the bank!!), and i would not be wed in tracksuits, with my reception catered by mcdonalds.

matter of fact, my wife and i probably spent considerabley less than britney on our wedding, and it was beautiful. my wife bought her wedding dress (a gorgeously-understated number) on sale from jay jacobs. i already owned the suit in which i was wed. we did it in a park. my wife's friend held the reception at his mongolian grill, and our guests were able to eat as much of it as they liked, cooked to their tastes, with whatever ingredients they wanted out of the spread that was in front of them. even our rings, though very beautiful, were paid off before we placed them on our fingers on the 28th of august, 1999. and everyone loved the service, and subsequent reception, and no one had to wear jackets with the word "pimp" emblazoned on the back!

i also love britney for the simple fact that she apparently doesn't realize just how full of shit she looks when she says dumb shit like "i don't use my sexuality to sell records." honey, if you didn't use your sexuality to sell records, you wouldn't have sold any! "i had a growth spurt." i've never heard of a growth spurt happening only in your tits, at age 18. maybe her plastice surgeon's name was Groethe Zpert? "i didn't want to kiss madonna, it was her idea." then why the fuck was your mouth all hangin' open with your tongue out and eyes closed about ten minutes before madonna was coming at you? she is blissfully unaware of the eye-rolling that we are all doing to nearly everything that comes out of her mouth that is not backed by casio-esque drumbeats. hell, a lot of us even roll our eyes at that shit!

in local news, my entire family has spent the last several days getting its ass kicked by some sort of virus, which raises a couple questions in my mind: why do the kids only get it bad enough to keep them up at night, make them puke or overfill their diapers, and then keep them wired during the day? why, if my wife is going to get it, does she only get it on the weekends, which is when i should be getting a break, and gets it so bad that i feel like a real horse's ass even mentioning that i, too, am sick and feel icky? why do i get it only bad enough to make me feel like refried dogshit, but not enough that i can say, "fuck all of you, look how fucking sick i am, take care of your own fucking selves while i go lay down."? i often think that there is something wry and sardonic out there that is out to get me. i'm not necessarily saying god, cause i think he has bigger fish to fry, but something.

well, i will leave you with all this to ponder upon, as i need to go drink some gatorade.

darth sardonic


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