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Chronicle of the NonPop Revolution
Following the attacks in the city and elsewhere, Americans across the country have united behind symbols of our great nation. The American flag clearly tops the list.
Our star spangled banner has spawned and migrated from its traditional position on flagpoles and postage stamps, to the more public venues of shop windows and Durango antennas. In addition, our national pastime has enjoyed one of its most exciting seasons ever, with Barry Bonds relentlessly chasing the Mark. Still, beyond stars and stripes, Major League Baseball, and warm apple pie, lies an even truer American icon. This icon has sold millions of albums, made millions of dollars, and touched millions of hearts. She is much better looking than Old Glory, and much hotter than warm apple pie.
She is a 5'5" 105lb goddess from Kentwood, Louisiana.
She is Britney.
Britney's latest smash excites everyone from the music industry to the Keebler Elves. I'm A Slave 4 U debuted at No. 1 on MTV's TRL, and with good reason. This masterpiece of visual stimulation is nothing short of a four minute explosion of shimmers, shakes, and song, set against a ridiculous punky underground scene.
In the video, Britney goes platinum, blond that is, and couples her new do with poorly applied eye make-up to achieve a very specific, drugged out, I-Look-Like-Every-Character-Bridget-Fonda-Has-Ever-Played-In-A-Movie-Ever, look. It works.
After some introductory material, she winks and wriggles her way onto the dance floor, where she proceeds to hopelessly intoxicate her audiences; both the couch potatoes of the video, and those of us watching at home, drinking Pepsi and eating Cheetos in-between licking our television screens.
There is more dancing and more romancing, followed by more pelvic gyration and sexual frustration. Britney continues her dances and prances, pausing now and again to smack her thighs, or fondle her breasts. By the end of the video, the viewer is primed for anything.
The final sixty seconds of the video are riveting, as the levels of eroticism reach up into those heavenly depths probed only by Nabokov in his raciest pages. Britney is confronted, and cornered.
She pants loudly.
The video ends, and I smoke a cigarette.
While I smoke, I realize that this video marks a point of no return for my beloved. Never again will my Britney be the sweet innocent subject of One More Time, or the out of this world beauty of Oops... I Did It Again. I wonder if I'll miss the old Britney--as it dawns on me that before the end of the year she will no longer be a teenager.
The new Britney is undoubtedly slimmer, hotter, and an altogether more alluring version of herself, if that's possible. She has changed from child, to woman, and now resembles Madonna, instead of Blossom. Her new album, I'm A Slave 4 U, will be released on November 6th, to the delight of the music industry, the Keebler Elves, and myself.
After such a horrific event to begin the 21st century, any and all constants are prized for their stability. These constants range from the strength of the American people, to the unavoidable McDonaldsization of the planet. They also include the perennial charm of Britney Spears. At the end of the day, after all the terrorism, and the attacks, and foreign policy, and what a dolt Bush is, everyone should sit down, pop open a Heineken, and welcome Britney into their lives, to sing, and to dance, and to spread happiness.