The Resurrection of B. Spears

The following essay is not meant to be blasphemous or scholarly. It’s simply an analysis of two historical figures which will seek to draw conclusions about how society deals and dealt with people in the public eye. Jesus Christ was born somewhere between the years 2 and 7 BC/BCE. Britney Spears was born on December 2, 1981. Jesus was the son of a carpenter, Spears the child of a former elementary school teacher and a building contractor. Nothing of their very early life would foretell of what was to come for these two people. However each would, in their own way, eventually become an icon for the culture in which they lived. Both would rise to a status which thrust them into the public eye. Both would reach a level of fame and notoriety few had accomplished before and both would eventually fall before their judges and meet their demise, be it literal or figurative. The following essay will draw logical connections between the lives of these two enigmatic and controversial characters, hopefully to discern the role the public played in their rise, fall and eventual resurrection.
The stories of both Britney and Jesus begin well before their respective baptism, but for our purposes we’ll begin there. Jesus was baptized in the desert by his distant cousin, John. It’s a source of controversy in the Catholic Church that Christ was baptized by John. The Gospel of Matthew recounts that John was hesitant to perform the baptism, and insisted that Jesus perform the rite. But Jesus persuaded John, and the ceremony marked the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry. Many member of the Catholic Church find it somewhat embarrassing that the future figurehead of the Christian church was baptized in the desert by a relative unknown.
Britney’s figurative baptism could be marked by her debut single, Baby One More Time. She was just 17 years old when it was released. As a teen in the music world, she sparked controversy with the video to that song and her naughty school girl costume. This song, and the album which would go platinum 14 times over, would mark her debut onto the international music scene. Britney began her career singing in the Baptist church of the town she grew up in. The song which marked her debut into the world of popular music caused quite a stir among the Church and other religious and conservative groups.
It’s the classic and cautionary tale of fame which tells of the temptation one encounters along the way. After Jesus was baptized he was lead out into the desert by God to fast for 40 days and 40 nights. During that time he was visited and tempted 3 times by the Devil. Each time he denied the temptation citing scripture of the Old Testament.
Britney was a virtual child in the entertainment industry. A sheep among wolves, if you will. Before she could really adjust to the fame she was caught up in the star-making machine. After her first album, she quickly followed up with another. She churned out hit after hit and was raking in money and fame hand over juvenile fist. It was inevitable that she would encounter temptation along the way. In 1999 she posed for the cover of Rolling Stone magazine in a photo shoot by David LaChapelle. ‘The American Family Association charged that the pictures, which showed Spears in push-up bras and a minuscule pair of shorts with "Baby" in rhinestones on the bottom, presented a "disturbing mix of childhood innocence and adult sexuality" and asked that all "God-loving Americans" boycott stores carrying her albums’ (Wikipedia) At this point she also began dating Justin Timberlake, and despite her claims that she would remain a virgin until she was married she was reported to have had a sexual relationship with him.
This is where one distinct divergence between these two narratives arises: Denial v. acquiescence. Jesus was tempted by the Devil over and over during his time in the desert but he continually denied the temptation. Spears on the other hand seemed to barrel headlong into the temptations offered up by Hollywood and the music industry and wholeheartedly accept all which they had to offer.
Another key difference between Jesus and Britney could potentially help to explain the aforementioned point of denial v. acquiescence. Jesus had a very close inner circle of supporters. Firstly and most important Jesus always had God in his corner. At myriad points in the narrative of Jesus God comes to Jesus to offer support and encouragement. God is a tangible character in Jesus’ life and when Jesus is tested he has that presence to remind of the right path. Jesus also had a close-knight group of followers, the Apostles. Britney Spears was raised as a Southern Baptist. Some might say that she also had God in her corner, or so her preacher and church community might tell her, however that all gets pretty diluted when you’re uprooted from your family and moved thousands of miles away from that community. Britney had been a show-business kid well before she was actually in show business and that hectic lifestyle didn’t allow for much time for childhood friends, or close ones at the very least. Her family was probably her biggest supporters, but when fame and fortune comes knocking it’s anybody’s guess who will stick by you.
At the height of Jesus’ ministry he was preaching to audiences numbering in the thousands. For an itinerant priest, preaching to people hiding from persecution, that’s a pretty good crowd. Before Britney Spears she turned 20 in 2001, Spears had sold more than 37 million albums worldwide. Even at the height of their notoriety both Christ and Spears seemed drawn to a "questionable" element. Jesus often met with society's outcasts, such as the emperor's moneylenders. The Pharisees protested, saying that Jesus should spend his time preaching to the righteous. This was one of the very early cracks that began to form between the early followers of Jesus and mainstream Judaism.
In 2006 Britney Spears guest-starred on Will and Grace as a closeted lesbian. This role drew criticism from conservative Christian groups who were most likely already disillusioned by Miss Spears due to her sexually loaded stage performances and song lyrics. In 2004 Spears married her one-time backup dance, Kevin Federline who had recently been linked to actress Shar Jackson who was 8 months pregnant with their child.
These events and many more like them were fodder which would begin to fan the flame of disapproval that licked at the careers and lives of both Jesus and Spears. Both would be called upon to defend their actions to the world at large and both their lives would become public spectacle over which neither of them had very much control.
In the account given by the synoptic gospels, Jesus entered the city of Jerusalem during the Passover festival and created a disturbance at Herod’s temple by overturning the moneylender’s tables claiming that Herod had turned the temple into a “den of robbers” (Wikipedia and The Bible) He was later arrested by the temple guards and put to trial. He and his apostles were praying and in the garden of Gesthemane at the time of his arrest. The temple guards knew to arrest Jesus because one of his Apostles, Judas, had accepted payment to point him out. He signaled Jesus’ identity by kissing him on the cheek in sight of the guards. Jesus was put to trail, but Pilate, the governor found him guilty of no crime. He could not let him go free lest a riot ensue so he put the choice to the mob: they could vote to release one prisoner, the convicted murder Barabbas or Jesus. The crowd chose to release Barabbas. Jesus was to be executed.
On November of 2006 Britney Spears filed for divorce from Kevin Federline. From February of 2007 through September of 2007 Spears was in and out of various drug and alcohol treatment programs. As the legal battle over the custody of their children continued, many members of her entourage have been summoned to testify about her parenting skills. (Wikipedia) One such testimony came from one of Spears’ bodyguards “Fat” Tony Barretto which made allegations about her dangerous lifestyle and lackluster parenting abilities. Spears lost custody of her children to Federline on October 1, 2007.
Jesus was crucified by his peers on the Hill of Golgotha, and by all accounts died in the late afternoon. The details of Christs’ last day are gory and horrific to say the least. He suffered more physical, mental and spiritual torment than anyone should ever have to see in 1,000 lifetimes. After he finally died his body was moved to a tomb which was to be his final resting place.
Britney Spears suffered her own version of crucifixion. It may seem outrageous to draw a similarity between what Christ suffered and what Spears suffered, but to place the suffering of one human on a higher plane than the suffering of another human is a tricky thing. To make a judgment on the suffering of human beings necessarily says that one human life is more important than another. The vast majority of the human populace would say that Jesus Christ was more important than Britney Spears. At one time the vast majority of the human populace thought white people were more important than black people. The human populace is a strange entity.
At one point in her life Britney Spears was one of the most beloved and sought after performers in the history of music and stage. She was idolized by millions of teenagers and lusted after by probably billions of the denizens of the internet. After that she had two sons. She was wealthy and beautiful and she had at least two people in her life that for the time being would love her unconditionally. She had “it all”. But for whatever reason she felt the need to single-handedly destroy it. She lost her music career, she lost many of her fans and she lost her sons. Each day she would look in the mirror and see everything that she was and had and all that she had lost. And then she would turn on the TV and the radio and go on the internet and read a magazine and the newspaper and she would see it more. She was most likely and alcoholic and a drug addict. She may have suffered from mental illness. But it can be argued that at least the substance abuse was brought on by the pressure to stay at the dizzying levels that she had achieved and the mental illness could have been caused be falling from that height. I personally cannot imagine the suffering that this woman must have gone through. And the worst part, to my mind, was that it was her and her alone that got her to the top, and it was also her actions and hers alone that brought her down so low. On January 31st a judge placed Spears under co-conservatorship of her father James Spears and Attorney Andrew Wallette, giving them complete control of her assets. (Wikipedia)
During Jesus’ trail he was asked if he was the King of the Jews. His reply is ambiguous, and some gospels translate it as “It is as you say.” That was enough of an admission of guilt for the accusing priests and the public at large to warrant his crucifixion. Before he was crucified he was imprisoned and the Roman soldiers tortured him. As a joke on of the soldiers created a crown of thorns for him and placed it upon his head. The crown worn by the King of the Jews was created by someone else. The title King of the Jews was put in his mouth and his admission to hold that title was coerced and his words twisted.
Britney Spears was crowned the Princess of Pop by the media and the entertainment industry. With her impressive record sales, and Grammy award numbers it was a well deserved title. However, when her life started to go awry the same people that put the crown on her head were only too happy to throw it in her face later on. Just as Jesus’ title brought nothing but a painful crown and his ultimate death, Britney’s title, in the end came back to bring her nothing but the memory or what she was and the realization of what she had lost. It brought her to the moment of her ultimate spiritual and emotional crucifixion.
Needless to say, it’s a cognitive leap to assume the similarities between Jesus Christ and Britney Spears. But how much of the vast difference that we perceive between them is actual fact? How much of that was part of their actual life and how much of it was created by external factors? It’s possible to assume that the role that each of them plays in the world and history at large is nothing more than iconography created by society. Jesus became the icon of the Christians and Britney Spears became the icon of the evils of excess getting too much too fast. Vanessa Grigoriadis reported in "The Tragedy of Britney Spears" (2008), her cover story for Rolling Stone, that "more than any other star today, Britney epitomizes the crucible of fame for the famous: loving it, hating it and never quite being able to stop it from destroying you." Did either of them ever ask for these labels or roles? Jesus at no point ever actually called himself the King of the Jews, and Britney Spears, although she worked hard a tried to achieve fame and success at no point asked to become the epitome of the crucible of fame and success.

After Jesus was crucified and laid to rest in his stone tomb, a number of his apostles were headed to the town of Emmaus to eat dinner. Jesus appeared to them, but at first they could not properly see that it was him. Later while having supper at Emmaus "their eyes were opened" and they recognized him.

Recently pictures of Britney Spears began to surface in which she looked really good, more like her old self. The Britney Spears of In the Zone. Said the writer of The Superficial “Britney Spears hit up Vegas over the holiday weekend and, Jesus, she looks surprisingly awesome. I guess being deemed mentally unstable really does shed the pounds. Who knew? Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to explain to my confused penis it's not 2001 again. At ease, soldier!” She has regained visitation rights to her 2 sons, and she’s successfully completed her treatment program. Spears was asked to appear at the VMAs, but a backup act was arranged in case Britney reverted to her old tricks. Britney appeared, looking beautiful and won 3 awards including Video of the Years.

“But, in all seriousness, I hope Britney Spears appreciates my enthusiasm. There's no greater compliment you can give a woman than "Hey, nice rack." Chivalry: it's what's for dinner.” – The Superficial

Later while having supper at Emmaus "their eyes were opened" and they recognized her.

Way to Stop Committing

I got really drunk this weekend and now I have fear and loathing.  Also, I arrived at work today and my boss shoveled a pile of shit-work on my head.  In my alcohol induced malaise and my busy-work fueled rancor, I bring you Emo Post.

I've been thinking about the title of this blog a lot lately.  In the past almost-year I've become a less violent and hateful towards most everything, so sometimes reading the word "destroy" on my own blog can give me a bit of a shock.  Then I remember what I actually meant with the title.  I was trying to say I don't do things I'm not good at for very long.  The first post on this blog is about how if the blog "sucked" I'd stop posting.  So then I got to thinking about the things that I'm really good at.  The things that I "destroy".  And I realize there really aren't that many.  I'm good at working.  I'm good at drinking.  Not lately, but that's kind of like riding a wiggly, black-out bike.  When I actually do commit myself to things I'm usually pretty good at them, but I haven't committed myself to very much so those things are few and far between.  The reason I'm not good at anything is the title of this blog.  

When I was growing up my intelligence was regarded much more highly than my work ethic.  I actually have a superb work ethic (read: I'm a total fucking martyr) but that never mattered.  I always thought that everything would just come really easily to me because I was smart.  Whenever I was bad at something, or got a bad grade it was for some reason that I was always secretly proud.  "My mind works faster than my mouth" - Why I spoke incredibly fast and had problems getting ideas across verbally.  "I'm not good with details" - Why I would get As and Bs for content and F-s for punctuation, grammar and mechanics.  "I work better under pressure" - my procrastination.   The list goes on.  I was always very willing to accept my faults as long I had this one ace in the hole, my intellect.  Then I turned 12 and went to boarding school.  That was no help either, because I got into almost every boarding school I applied to so OBVIOUSLY I was a genius.  I realize after the fact that when you're one of two kids in a single parent household need-based scholarships and acceptance letters are pretty much par for the course. Basically, they needed to fill some poor kid quota.  My grades were terrible in high school.  I was on academic probation a lot.  I always had to go to the library during study hall, because otherwise I'd sit in my dorm room and harass my roommate who was trying to get her shit done.  She had realized the importance of hard work.  She's a doctor now.  My mom thought I was rebelling.  I didn't think about it because my social life at the time was far more important to me than any fucking $20k education.  I did get good grades in some classes, and those were the classes that I enjoyed.  When I didn't like a class I just sucked at it or maybe I didn't like it because I sucked at it and didn't want to have to try.

That pattern held into my adult life.  That little ego that had formed when I was young turned into a total fucking monster in and after college.  I couldn't handle doing things that I was bad at because I was so terrified of being embarrassed and called out for my fraudulent genius.  I loved Art History (read: was good at and didn't really have to try too hard) in high school and college, so I figured I'd get something in that field when I was done with school.  I moved to NYC after graduation and half-assedly applied to some gallery and museum jobs.  Then I went to an interview at a (non-art) company that told  me I was going to be a super-star! It lined up perfectly with my secret knowledge that I would somehow become wildly successful without ever having to do anything difficult.  Ever.  Hey, look!  I got a sweet job with little, to no effort.  I didn't even have to apply.  They found me on Monster.  I didn't need any specific background, and due to the youth of the company if I played my cards right I could be a total fucking success without actually ever having to try too hard or commit to anything. PERFECT!  Not that I didn't work hard at that job, I totally did.  But only at the stuff that I knew I was going to be good at: putting up numbers.  I always did the most.  Not the best.  When project came around that actually required me to think outside of the box or use my brain I would pretty much shut down.  I'd make a serious face, shake my head and go to the snack room for some coffee.  What if my idea was bad?  What if it didn't work?  Here was my rationalization for that - "I'm the workhorse.  Someone else can come up with the ideas."

Now, here I am, 27 years old and I'm not really good at anything simply because I was / am too scared to suck at anything for long enough to master it.  Now I'm not saying that I was raised badly, that's not it at all.  I'm also not saying it's too late for me.  I'm still young.  (Not as young as most of the dudes I try and date, but young all the same.)  I'm just kind of excited that I've realized this.  That sucking at something isn't all that bad.  It's actually kind of fun to learn something new.  Can you imagine?  Just realizing this now?  At 27?  It's like being a kid again.  I mean it's always going to be hard when I get to the point where my newly forming skill doesn't develop as fast as I want it to.  That's currently happening with this marathon training.  I'm about half-way in and I had a shitty run today.  The FIRST thing I thought was "Oh well, I guess I'll just bail.  I mean, I'm not a runner anyway.  My boobs are too big."  So that little voice inside me is always there, I don't think I can ever get it to go away.  But I can choose to react to it differently.  In this case I just have to keep calm and wake up tomorrow morning and put my fucking running sneakers on again.  We'll see.  Maybe I do bail.  Then I'm a fucking asshole.  AGAIN.  

So at any rate, the title of this blog has taken on a different meaning for me.  And it's actually kind of embarrassing that I felt that way at any point.  More embarrassing?  I probably always will.  I'm still scared of looking dumb whilst sucking at stuff.  I'm scared to learn because there's still that douchy person inside me that thinks that if I need to learn more stuff I'm not perfect and that means I'm a failure.  For that reason I'm going to leave the title.  As a reminder.  Also, I don't actually know how to change it because I've never committed myself to getting good at using computers or this blog for that matter.  Can somebody tell how to capitalize the first i??   

Dirt in the Skirt, Jane. Dirt in the skirt.

So I was trying to think about what I would write in reference to Martha Jane's b-day. I was trying to think of whom Martha most reminds me. Who else is smart, funny, hardcore (not porn...I don't think. Woah, Jane. Woah.) good at everything, goddam fine-looking and has a style sensibility that won't quit? (Don't act like this is the first time I've ever hit on you.) And then it dawned on me, clear as a baseball one-piece skirt/shirt thingy wearing day: Dottie Mutha Flippin Hinson.

"Then there's pretty Dottie Henson, who plays like Gehrig, and looks like Garbo. Uh-uh, fellas, keep your mitts to yourself; she's married."

Then I got to thinking, who would play everyone else if I were casting the single greatest movie in cinematic history? Let the hijinx ensue:

Dottie: Martha Jane "You KNOW you're not going to try and hit no fucking pop-fly in my ballpark while I'm trying to eat this delicious cupcake"Armitage

Kit Keller: Savage (You totally swing at the high ones. And you kind of got traded / fired.)

Mae "All the Way" Mordabito: Bizzle, obviously. You talk about your bosoms more than anyone I know.

Doris Murphy: Yeah, I know you were all thinking it before I even started this fucking post. I'm Doris.

Casting Note: The roles of Mae and Doris can be played by either Bizzle or the author as they are basically the same person and stand for all the same things which include but are not limited to: "Everybody Wang Chung" Wednesdays, Chili Con Carne slip n' slides for all public schools, the prohibition of all non-alcoholic beverages after 4pm every 3rd week of the month, strawberry flavored milk and Cloris Leachman.

Bob Hinson: Uncle Graeme Bagg. Congrats, GB. Both on becoming an uncle AND coming back from the war to a hot woman's baseball league heroine. And on your sweet limp.

Jimmy Duggan: Sarah Sallee. Also played by Sarah Sallee: Febuary, March and Fauvism.

Marla Hooch: She's not in this version because she's ugly.

Walter Harvey: Robert Gordon "Careers and higher education are leading to the masculinization of women, with enormously dangerous consequences to the home, the children, and our country. When our boys come home from war, what kind of girls will they be coming home to? And now the most disgusting example of this sexual confusion: Mr. Walter Harvey of Harvey bars is presenting us with women's baseball. Right here in Chicago, young girls plucked from their families are gathered at Harvey Field, to see which one of them can be the most masculine. Mr. Harvey, like your candy bars, you're completely... nuts." Soffel.

Betty Spaghetti: Who else do you know that looks like spaghetti? Sorry about the whole "dead husband" thing, Mona Spaghetti.

Ernie Capadino: Yeeeeaaaaah Squilla. "Pickle-Tickle" is totally something you'd say / do.

Stillwell Angel: Ben Perper.

I think that's not even close to all of the characters, but my creative juices have dried up and I'm spent. (Ew. TWSS?) At any rate, happy birthday Auntie Jane. I hope the grass stains come out of your baseball bootie shorts and that the poor chick in the back of the bus finally learns to read because I know it pisses you off the hear her stuttering through the good part of that trashy novel.

All-American Girls Professional Baseball League Victory Song

Batter up! Hear that call! The time has come for one and all To play ball. We come from cities near and far. We've got Canadians (WOO), Irishmen and Swedes, We're all for one, we're one for all We're All-Americans! Each girl stands, her head so proudly high, Her motto 'Do or Die.' She's not the one to use or need an alibi. Our chaperones are not too soft, They're not too tough, Our managers are on the ball. We've got a president who really knows his stuff, We're all for one, we're one for all, We're All-Americans!

A Music Video

Dear Tony & Paul,

Just to reiterate, if you ever cast a music video without involving me again, I'll cut your fucking hearts out in front of your girlfriends and various pets.

Kisses.

-Moi

Confession.

I'm a plagarist.  And I won an award for it.  

I just remembered this the other day.  We (it's none of your business who "we" is.  My private life is my own.) were at the library, checking out some literature which chronicled the lives of great historical figures such as Bob the Builder and Thomas the Tank Engine, when my eye fell upon a Brian Jaques book.  I used to love Brian Jaques books.  For those of you that don't know, he wrote a few literary gems called "Redwall", "Mossflower" and my personal favorite, "Martin the Warrior".   I read these books non-stop when I was a tot.  In bed at night, on the school bus, in class, all the time.  I would carry around these huge, hard-cover novels with pictures of talking animals in castles getting into battles with other animals on them and wonder why I wasn't friends with the cool girls with the scrunchies and the layered slouch socks and the long t-shirts and belts.  I still wonder.....

When I saw the book my first emotion was happiness and nostalgia because I remember just loving the shit out of those things.  But then there was something else.  What was it?  Is that the FEAR??  How could this be?  Why was I getting fear and loathing in the middle of the children's section of the West Tisbury Free Library??

Back when subject were "English", "Math" and "Gym" my favorite subject in elementary school was obviously English.    Gym probably would have been my favorite if it hadn't been for the girls in the slouch socks making fun of how I ran.  I would find out later in life that I have a gait which could be likened to a popular snack food, the Chicken Nugget. (I was informed of this in high school by a chap named Christoph Boominghaus.  he would yell, "Chickeen Nugggeetttt!" in his German accent, and then throw me into the bushes outside of the cloisters of my prestigious boarding school.  I think you guys are getting a pretty clear picture of my formative years, no?)  

I used to enter all of the writing contest in elementary school.  One such contest was a creative writing contest.  I think it was fourth or fifth grade.  I wrote a story, submitted it to the contest and went back to my life of dorkery without thinking too much more about it.  The day they announced the winners of the contests there was an all-school assembly.  Grades 1 - 5 gathered in the gym, and Dr. Vogel, the principal, stood  up to give a speech and announce the prizes.  Dr. Vogel totally ruled.  He was about 65 when I was 10, and he was tall and bald and wore a bow-tie.  He used to play the guitar in class and use really funny voices.  I think in hindsight he was a #1, class-A candidate for a pedophile charge, but maybe I'm just jaded and think that all tall, bald dudes who play the guitar for children and talk in weird voices want to get into little-kid chinos. (Belle, this in not inclusive of any of your family members.) 

When he announced the prizes he went from 3rd prize up to 1st prize.  I think I kind of let it go after 2nd prize because there's no way in HELL I was going to win.  I didn't win stuff.  (I still don't, unless someone, who will remain fabulously and glamorously unnamed, stuffs the ballot box thus securing me a mouse pad with fruit on it and a cash prize.  Come on, YOU ALL KNEW I DIDN'T DESERVE THAT SHIT!!)  Then he read the title of my story.  And my name.  I had won.  Part of the prize was that Dr. Vogel stood up in front of the whole THE WHOLE fucking school and read the story.  Guess what my story was about.   Oh, did you say "Talking animals living in castles getting into battles with other animals"?  Yahtzee.  Before he read my story he went on and on about how the story had won because of it's originality.  I don't even think I realized I had stolen from the Jaques books until Big Vog started reading my story out loud.  It was exactly like these stories sounded in my head.  Dr. Vogel went up there and gave an amazing performance of the words B. Jaques had written.  Homeboy would have been proud.  But not I, not fucking I.  I was horrified.  Now everybody was going to know that I was a total fraud.  Someone in this gymnasium is going to stand up, and point at me and call me a fucking liar.  I looked around at the crowd.  People were pointing at me alright.  The scrunchie girls were whispering at each other and pointing at my fucked up haircut and palazzo pants.  Holy shit.  Nobody else had read these books.  My obscure nerdery had somehow saved me.  Nobody was going to find out.  I'm just like Malcolm  in the Middle but about 1/8 as smart!!!!  

When I got home and announced my victory my mom was SO proud.  My brother totally knew.  He'd actually given me the books in the first place.  I think he actually called me out but there was too much of a kerfuffle surrounding my prize and his protests were drowned out.  I had gotten away with it.  And it was at then that I stopped thinking about that day completely, until 17 years later when I would walk into a library and have a fucking heart attack upon seeing a book about some talking animals living in a castle getting into battles with other animals.

I wonder how many things in my past I'm suppressing.  Maybe I'm not even writing this blog.  

Eh, I'd have to the biggest douche alive to copy this garbage.  

Okay, That joke I posted a couple of weeks ago?  I stole it.  Oops.  I think I was supposed to suppress that.