Monday, September 27, 2004

Well, take this bit of non-news with a grain o' salt, because who the hell knows if it's true or not? The rumor going around is that Britney Spears is carrying the third spawn of Kevin Federline in her becheetoed belly. I don't want to alarm anyone, but I'm pretty sure this is all written down in the Book of Revelations as Step One in the the Armageddon. Next up: The sea turns red, the sky pours down frogs, and a leviathan washes ashore in Santa Monica. According to the IMDB:

"Pop idol Britney Spears has told family and close friends she and husband Kevin Federline are expecting their first child, according to reports. British newspaper The Mail On Sunday claims the couple brought their wedding last weekend forward from its planned November date, because the pop princess is eight weeks pregnant. A source tells the newspaper, "Britney has told only her family and closest circle that she is pregnant. She is ecstatic. Britney only learned she was expecting recently and she's less than eight weeks pregnant. It's why she pulled her wedding date forward to September." If true, the news would mark a remarkable year for the beauty, who was married to childhood friend Jason Alexander for a mere 55 hours in January, before her whirlwind romance with Kevin Federline."

Aaaaah, yes, the whirlwind romance. Let's take a wee stroll down memory lane, shall we? Lo, those five months ago, when it all began, it seemed so innocent: A weaselly mustachioed back-up dancer with a pregnant girlfriend, being flown to London to service his Louisiana Lady. Then the courtship began in earnest: Balcony crotch-grabs around the globe, balcony make-out parties, balcony Cheeto-n-cigarrette tossing. Then, one perfectly lovely day, she got down on bended knee and proposed to her man, presenting him with a ring she had bought for him to hand back to her. Then came the blessed pre-nups, the precious birth of his second child by his baby mama, the holy, sacred, fake-out wedding plans, and finally wedded bliss in pimp track suits. And now this, the stickiest bun in the oven ever conceived. It's EXACTLY like "Romeo and Juliet," ya'll. Totally.

Now on to some good old-fashioned nutballery. Poor, demented Sinead O'Connor is at it again, begging for people to make fun of her by running an ad begging people to stop making fun of her. The IMDB reports:

"Irish singer Sinead O'Connor has taken out a full-page advert in a national newspaper begging people to stop "ridiculing" her. The 2,000-word ad, in the Irish Examiner, is in response to criticism she received after calling for a "national delousing day" to rid children of head lice. The 37-year-old feels she has been mocked and berated for the past 20 years. O'Connor says she feels she has been "consistently ridiculed, lashed and called mad" by people who don't know her. Her plea reads, "It has taken a severe toll on my health and has had consequences for my life which have resulted in me being really fair game apparently for really an awful lot of people to really crush and sh*t on. I don't think there can be any person male or female from this country who has been as consistently lashed as I have been and always am no matter what I set out to do. If ye all think I am such a crazy person why do ye use me to sell your papers?...why do ye bother writing about me at all?" While O'Connor concedes she is "unconventional" and has been a "little s*** stirrer", she adds that if Bono received the same adverse press, he would 'kick you asses'."

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"Why do ye make fun of me?"

OK, I'm not all that up on my Irish literary references, but please god let her be quoting someone famous with all that "ye use me to sell your papers" stuff. But if she's comparing herself to James Joyce or Oscar Wilde you can add "delusions of grandeur" to her long list of mental illnesses. She is writing herself a one-way ticket to the loony bin! Did she not see "Frances?" Hello? Sinead? You know why people "consistently ridicule" you? It's because you do things like a)call for a "national delousing day" and b)take out full-page ads in newspapers that use the word "ye." Not to mention the whole "am-I-a-lesbian-priest-or-am-I-a-1950s-style-hausfrau?" thing that you've gone back and forth on for the last decade. Either get a grip or go into seclusion like a normal crazy person! The Una Bomber made more sense than you do, lady!

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