September 11, 2007


Britney At The 2007 MTV Video Awards

It's hard to believe that when we started this series lo those many years ago, that we'd be so prescient in predicting Britney's full-metal Australian Rappel into the pit of self-parody.

Some might argue that AN,YMOB has been mean-spirited and cruel. Well, we've done some internal accounting of our soul and determined that if anything, we've taken our foot off the accelerator more often than not. Simply put, there was too much pulp to cram into the tree shredder.

Marry your childhood friend for 50 hours? We can do that. Choke back a ciggie on the porch without your makeup on? Certainly that's fair game for a celebrity. Pose for photos that make you look more lifeless than you already are? Giddyap, horsey.

But there's only so much matter this universe can absorb. We can't document every time you call your kids a mistake. Or every time you call your baby daddy a mistake. Or the too-many-times-to-count incidents in which you decide to let the girls breathe free. Or the multiple infractions from when you try to park the car.

Seriously, there aren't enough terrabytes to process all the stuff you generate in the blogosphere. No reason we should add to the heap.

So we'll be discriminating in what we document. We'll keep the sifter on "molecular." And we'll let friends like Jolie tag you with their brilliance whenever you get up and wobble at the MTV Video Awards:

Dear Britney,

If you're going to lip sync at the VMAs (and it's ok, everyone is doing it) you need to dance your face off to justify that decision.

Just sayin'.

p.s. You may want to lay off the valium/xanax/boone's farms cocktail you've clearly been knocking back at a fast clip of late.

Jolie is to Britney as Cronkite was to Vietnam. Once you've lost her, you've lost the country, babe.


No carpet, no drapes, no problem.

Now, with a breathable cotton panel.

K-Fed cornrows. Bad idea.

Gallery of the Absurd.

Brit and KFed, the ill-advised reality TV series.

Lights, camera, Britney.

Britney wears the glamorous life.

Britney takes a palimony suit.

Something old, something new.

Britney takes a groom. Again.

Britney defends her latest love.

Britney marries a childhood friend. For 50 hours.

Britney swaps spit with the Rosetta Stone of Skank.

Britney poses for photos that make her look even more plastic and lifeless than she already is.

Britney, as she would look if she hit the all-you-can-eat Seafood Lovers Special at Red Lobster every night for six months.

Britney runs a restaurant into the ground.

Britney has an evil twin available for parties.

Britney and George cut a rug.

Britney proves the axiom: Beer affects the way males respond to females.

Posted by Jeff at September 11, 2007 06:14 AM | TrackBack
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