The only thing we have to fear is...Federline
It's time to repent, people, because the antichrist is here. And he has appeared in the form of a slimy drifter named Kevin Federline. This one-man baby factory is on a mission to repopulate the earth with the unholy seed of his loins and create a heathenistic Federtopia, a cultish reincarnation of Jonestown, white-trash style. Remember that time at the Video Music Awards when Eminem walked in with a whole bunch of guys that looked like him? I expect this is the effect K-Fed is going for.
Talk about a person who is famous for doing absolutely nothing (well, except for Britney) and then proceeding to continue poisoning well past his 15-minute expiration date. I just read that little Brit-Brit thinks having another baby might help save her relationship with the spermintor. Good thinkin', Brandine. Cletus is well-known for taking care of the kids he's got already.
The other "news," and the reason I'm writing about these two dueling banjos, is that Federfucker has released a rap tune called "PopoZao," which I just had the distinct pleasure of hearing. Believe it or not, it's not as bad as you might think. It's worse—WAY worse. It's so laughably bad that I really can't even comment on it. After all, its' mere existence is ludicrous enough. And no, I don't have any fucking idea what "PopoZao" means, either.
Rather than giving myself a lobotomy with a rusty spoon to forget I ever heard this, and because I'm currently stoned on cold medicine (and, oh yeah, because I have no life), I decided to torture myself more with a visit to Brit-Brit's official site. Why? I don't know. Why not? That's the NyQuil talking. I guess that I'm in a particularly venomous Brit-bashing mood.
I'd like to comment first on the design. Now, when I think of Britney Spears the first thing that comes to mind is not bubbles, gazing balls and ethereal mermaids. But then again if the design theme focused on Kool butts, Slim Jims and empty cans of Schlitz it might not have much of a pleasing aesthetic.
On to the content. While it's almost too easy to ridicule Britney's "letters", I find it far more ridiculous that we are expected to shell out $24.95 A YEAR to be a member of Princess's "fan club." While we are promised a "members-only website," "a welcome package, full of Britney goodies," and "regular updates and important notices from the fan community," I expect that means up-to-the-minute info on Brandine's Cheeto runs and Starbucks excursions. If we're lucky, the members-only website will feature more crappy pictures of her looking like a gutter-dwelling whore on a meth binge. I can't even begin to imagine what is in the "welcome package," so I'm just going to move on from that.
Prepare yourself for what's coming next: Brit's "Dog Crib" segment, which features pictures of Bit-Bit's room. That's right, folks. The little rat she totes around with her has its' own room. Oh, and there are pictures. It appears that this room contains the fallout from an explosion in the Emerald City, as well as a tiny little bed that the dog probably shits on and what looks like a China cabinet for some reason. Oh, and there's also a giant Potty Pad spread classily at the foot of the bed, indicating what I already assumed: that this dog is left to run free throughout the mansion to piss and shit where ever it feels like with no consequence. Also, it looks like Bit-Bit's room is conveniently equipped with a night table and what looks like a couple of jewelry boxes. Jesus Christ. Spare yourself the agony of this visual—"Dawn of Black Hearts" is only slightly more disturbing.
Brit's insipid "letters" and "stream of consciousness" messages are worthy of a whole other post. I'm sorry, I just don't have the strength to tackle that right this moment. The 'Quil is starting to kick in and my brain has been reduced to mush from all the dreck I have exposed myself to. I could say it was all for the good of the blog, but since there are roughly two people that actually read this, I'm blaming the meds for making me delusional.
UPDATE: Holy shit, according to the questionably reliable Urban Dictionary, "popozao" means either a "large, voluptuous ass" or "a dirty, talentless leech that sponges off his baby's mama," both of which describe Cletus to a T. Criminy.