I sense conspiracy

Every year I insist on watching the VMAs even though I know it's going to be a geyser of shit.

I do it because I still believe I'm going to miss something big, like somebody falling, a drunken meltdown, or a drug-induced performance fuck-up. Like last year, for example. Remember, if you will, the dazzling spectacle of Britney with her budget weave, lurching around the stage dazed and confused and having either forgotten the lyrics to her own song or forgotten how to lip-sync, her paunchy belly jiggling with each faltering misstep. Now that was some quality television! There's nothing I love more than seeing people humiliating themselves on live national television—unless that person is Britney. Then that is officially the best.

This year, hype indicated that Britty would be attempting her comback *again*, so I was hoping for another glazed, bot-like performance disaster. I waited with baited anticipation for more fabulous Britney embarrassment.

Instead what do we get? We get canned pre-show banter between Brit and Jonah Hill in which Britney is treated as if she is hot again. Come on, people! Have we forgotten already? The weave may have been upgraded just a notch and she got new caps and she may be slightly less bloated than last year, but we all know what's underneath that spackled-on Bobbi Brown Creamy Concealer. We all know the truth!

Next we have the highly-anticipated show opener. But this time, there was no disaster. Instead, Brit simply shuffled out on stage, woodenly repeated some lines off the teleprompter, then turned it over to Rihanna, who launched into a Grace Jones-lite impersonation. Letdown #2!

Then to make matters even worse, the braindead MTV "voters" awarded Britney with three trophies, including Video of the Year for "Piece of Me." OK, letting her have a second chance to embarrass herself less on TV is one thing, but giving her pity trophies is something else all together! Conspiracy! Did you even see that video? It's the shittiest, most phoned-in piece of film of all time. Keep in mind that past winners of Video of the Year include such innovative classics as "Money for Nothing," "Sledgehammer," "Nothing Compares 2 U," "Virtual Insanity" and "Hey Ya." Not to say that other winners of this so-called top award are all sick, as the kids these days say, or even memorable, but "Piece of Me"? Jesus christ...pity awards! Next year, Britney will probably be on trial for chloroforming her kids and they'll give her Video Vanguard.

Ug, my temples are throbbing. It's time to move on from this topic, and discuss the other ongoing theme of the evening that got me in a twist: purity rings.

Yay, hurray for the Jonas Brothers and Jordin Sparks and Hannah Montana for wearing their NoMoHo chastity belt buckles and keeping their no-no holes in their pants until god or Pat Robertson says it's OK. They all probably had a prayer circle backstage and congratulated themselves for winning the lost through pure, innocent song. Kind of makes you want to put in their CDs and fuck someone seven ways to Sunday just for spite. But that's impossible—those songs are real mood-killers.

I especially liked when Jordin stood up for the Purity Police by saying, "It's not bad to wear a promise ring because not everybody—guy or girl—wants to be a slut." What am I, in 5th-grade health class and the school nurse is reminding everyone that it's very important to care about your reputation? Jordin was going to encourage everyone to maintain good posture by walking around the Paramount backlot with a books on their heads, but the orchestra cut her off. Then the Jonas Brothers were supposed to come out and tell us that we're going to get hair in new places on our bodies and Hannah Montana was going to give a lecture on different types of maxi pads. Don't wear a tampons! You won't be a virgin anymore!

I don't know who Russell Brand is, but he's the best for calling that shit out.

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