Many moons ago (so many moons that I can’t even find the Miss Pop Rocks post I’m referring to), I vowed in this blog that I would never write about Britney Spears again because, quite frankly, she was losing her mind. As much as I love to snark on idiot celebrities and bad cable television stars and lousy musicians who earn more money in one day than I’ll earn in my lifetime, for some reason, it didn’t feel good making fun of Brit Brit.
I mean, let’s face it. Things got pretty bad there for a while. The shaved head thing, the whacking a car with an umbrella, the Demerol-infused performance on the VMAs…you know the deal. Covering her made me feel like an even bigger pop culture whore than I already am, and I mean whore in a dirty way, not the good way.
But it looks like things are starting to turn around for Ms. Spears. Custody’s been amicably settled, she’s got that creep Sam Lutfi staying 50 feet away, and she had a couple of winning turns on “How I Met Your Mother.” Now there’s even talk of her collaborating again with Madonna.
The deal is this. I dig Britney Spears. I find her infectious, cute, charismatic, and a true survivor despite growing up in what seems like a pretty dysfunctional home in Podunk, Louisiana. I think “Hit Me, Baby, One More Time” is a delicious pop confection. She can dance like nobody’s business. And I don’t fault her for her nervous breakdown because mental illness isn’t a choice, and, quite frankly, it’s to her credit that she’s come out the other end alive.
But if I start caring and posting about Brit again, there’s a chance she could lose it once more. So I’m torn, and I ask you, dear readers…should I care about Britney again?
Should any of us?
(Cue the dramatic music.) – Jennifer Mathieu
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