Sugar, We're Going Down Swingin'
It's been a trying couple of weeks and it's all YouTube's fault. First of all, we've had all kinds of unprecedented violence against civilians in Iraq, coupled with a brash new emboldened-enemy push against American troops, shooting down helicopters, swarming American positions and then bragging about it all on viral video.

And why are these terrorists so emboldened? Because we have Democrats. And for at least two years, they're going to be passing terrorist-emboldening legislation willy-nilly with no one except the entire executive and judicial branches standing between them and their pro-terror agenda.

So that nightmare has no end in sight.

Plus figure in the very public downfall of one of America's last real heroes and my God, there's almost nothing clearly to keep living for.

We need something to hold on to, a rallying cry around which we can... you know... rally. Strong though the American spirit is when focused on a task, when left in the doldrums of a Carterian malaise, we can get a bit wayward, a bit lost, a bit choking to death on our own vomit at the tail end of a 20 year drug bender.

What's a people to do?

The question before us as a people is clear: How do we avoid going out like that Anna Nicole Smith?

This is a rhetorical question for us to answer collectively, using the pathetic demise of a quasi-starlet awarded more attention than any human--even a worthy one--could have legitimately earned to spur a self-examination, hopefully allowing us to break--or at least interrupt--the cycle of celebrity worship that occasionally grips the United States. These intense periods are part of who we are as a nation, always ending with the death of a fake blonde with giant tits: Jayne Mansfield gets decapitated in a car crash, Marilyn Monroe strangled in her sleep by Robert Kennedy and today Anna Nicole finds out for us what can really happen if you live for four years on a diet of Worcestershire sauce and Costco-brand methadone.

Unfortunately, some of us take these calls to self-examination a little bit literally.

Look at Britney Spears. I think the Anna Nicole thing has pushed her to try and find out what it is exactly that will keep her specifically from ending up like Anna Nicole Smith.

Try #1: Rehab. Detox in the hope that there is still time for your poor, poor liver. But man, they make you clean toilets in rehab. Fuck that. She was married to K-Fed and she'll be goddamned if she's going to wallow in someone else's shit. Plus, you know what they give you in rehab? Fucking methadone, man.

Total duration: One day.

Try #2: You know what Anna Nicole Smith totally had? Hair. A full head of it. Sure, it was as fake as her ta-tas, but it was all totally there. See, if you shave your head, the logic goes, you can't BE Anna Nicole Smith because she, like, had all this hair when her body finally threw up its hands and then asphyxiated on them.

I don't know what Try #3 will be, but I bet it involves keeping a well-stocked fridge. It's the new "make sure you're wearing clean underwear in case you get in a car accident" among the celebrity set. At least the fridge thing Britney can do. We know how she feels about underwear.




This post on the Narcissus Scale: [I will have to let you know once Narcissus stops weeping...]


Pops

Labels: Emo Phillips

- posted by Pops @ 7:12 PM