We Meet Again

Seeing as how airplanes are where I do a majority of my catching up on currents events (and by current events I mean men's magazines. As opposed to Glamour or Vogue, Details and GQ continue to be consistently insightful and interesting, mostly because they dont patronize my femaleness nor ask me to suspend my non-perky intellect in a "Ten Ways to Keep/Manipulate/Drug a Man into Marrying You" that is all the rage with periodicals which shall remain nameless), I happened upon this months current issue of Blender magazine on a recent cross-country jaunt, showcasing a rather blunt expose on the rise, fall, and inevitable public tragedy that has, and possibly will, continue to befall our beloved and be-weaved Ms. Spears. (Amongst their reported claims: pills and coke at 15, boob job at 17, and Justin's boot to the rear as the final nail in the coffin. Damn I hate being right!)

Rolling Stone has also tossed its hat in this ring of fun by putting a fresh faced Britney on their cover, an obvious throwback to a simpler time when she did not do her own make-up and hair in the aisles at Rite Aid, with the imposing headline "How Britney Lost it All." And then some.
This barrage of "respectable" publications finally chiming in with their own brand of concern slash "seriously, enough already" comes on the heels of a recent, dare I utter the words, uphill turn for our lady fair?

Apparently, Ma and Pa Spears finally took matters into their own hands, found a rational judge, issued restraining orders (So long, chin stripe!), and just cleaned house.

Literally:


They went through that wardrobe with a fine-toothed trash bag, and apparently left B.S. with nothing but a threadbare Hanes Her Way undershirt, and those INSUFFERABLE BROWN PLEATHER CHARLOTTE RUSSE BOOTS.

I implore you, La Familia Spears, set the boots free. We must all begin to heal.

In all seriousness, I know Ive said some allegedly mean spirited things about Britney and her family. I will also admit to being a little too overly concerned with her whereabouts and frequent bare-footed public bathroom visits (but really WHO DOES THAT).

I join a (now slightly fading) public obsession with this girl, this media creation, this juggernaut of hype and antics and audacity's, because...

If a semi-talented, multi-millionaire with the world at her feet, can go from this:



To this:



in a relatively short period of time, then no one is safe. Constant vigilance is necessary.

(I'm looking at you Miley Cyrus. If I cared at all I might deem my blog a chronological cautionary tale which should be read, studied, and noted by Miss Little Future Lohan. But I really only medium care.)

The pictures, and clippers*, speak for themselves.




*That was a head-shaving reference.