It’s our fault she’s still here, America. We fed this creature fame and money, catering to her every need for attention. We continuously click over to TMZ to watch each va-jay-jay flash and buy US Weekly to track her changing hair extensions. If you have any problem with her fat-camp, recital-style performance, we only have ourselves to blame. She is the female Elvis, and this was no ’68 comeback special. And fittingly, it all had to occur in Vegas.
Her bra and fishnets, straining against the body of a 26-year-old mother of two, undulated with her clumsily choreographed “dance.” She struggled to lip-sync to her sub-par track, which sounded like a Beyonce throwaway from 2002. Almost instantaneously, the blog world blew up in a page-refreshing frenzy. What were you expecting, kids? This was the only thing that could happen, barring an act of God Himself.
Remember when the prospect of Britney Spears opening an MTV awards shows was the equivalent of peep show? When you sat tantalized and paralyzed with lust and adulation? Sunday, all I could think of was the scene from King Kong, when the beast is chained on a stage, for the gawking amusement of the rich and affluent.
The glitter is on our hands, folks. – Craig Hlavaty
