CULTURE: January 2008 Archives
What did Diana Vreeland believe in? Certainly not nostalgia. Back plasters and larders, however...
Here’s the thing. Like most people (or at least those we know), I didn’t give a fuck about Britney Spears until recent developments made her not only not the simplest type of moron but the most complicated type of moron—the type who shaves her head; checks herself into and out of hotels multiple times in one night; gets wheeled around in hospital beds; and develops multiple personalities, at least one British. (To those who say this is not a “type,” I say just wait.)
But. Is it any surprise the lady went cuckoo? As the "Britney Spears Blackout Sizzle Reel" details, "Britney" has amassed so many awards (read money) that she has raised herself to the upperest of upper echelons, where tripping out is, and should be, completely the norm. Here, the accolades in handy graf-form, because seeing them flash onscreen doesn't quite do them justice:
Spears is the eighth best-selling female artist in American history and a six-time Yahoo! Top Searched Artist of the Year; has sold over eighty-million units worldwide in less than a decade; has had seven number-one worldwide hit singles, five worldwide blockbuster albums, and four consecutive number-one albums on Billboard Top 200; and has received a Grammy Award, four Billboard Music Awards, four MTV Europe Music Awards, an American Music Award, an Echo Award, two World Music Awards, two MTV Asia Awards, two Emmy Awards, a Japan Golden Disc Award, and a Brazil Music Award.
A George W. Bush biopic starring Josh Brolin! I hope it's a sprawling, kaleidoscopic pastiche.
I was going to take the time to craft a witty and facetious takedown of Lee Siegel, but then decided to let the apparent shittiness of his personality, his behavior, his opinions, and his ideas speak for itself. Besides, there are plenty of perfectly good smackdowns (see here, here, and most succinctly, here) out there already.
As an apology for hitting the guy when he's down, I'll direct a wee smidgen of web traffic to his unbelievably awful "electronic journal" for Slate, where he somehow succeeds in outdoing even the Slatiest of Slate contributors for tedious middle-aged stream-of-consciousness boringness.
