Dear Britney Spears

Dear Britney Spears (and I use the term "dear" with great hesitation),

Surely you must realize by this point that you are pure and utter skank. I would say "udder skank", but I mean no offence to the bovine creatures with whom you are lucky to share this planet.

Ms. Spears, did you realize that you have no talent whatsoever? I mean, really, none! It's actually a little shocking. I'm not a big fan of Justin Timberlake, but the dude can dance, and he actually knows how to put a beat or two together. I'm not crazy about Madonna's tunes either, but she's one smart cookie and I respect her ability to combine sex and sass to turn herself into a viable business venture. But you, Ms. Spears, I have yet to figure out your contribution to art, culture, life on the planet, or even amusement as a concept. You are Jerry Springer in fishnet stockings - completely scary but impossible to stop looking at. You completely boggle my mind.

Sure, Britney (if I may call you that), you have tits and ass covered - or uncovered - as the case may be. But really, don't you find that's getting old? I mean any 8 year old worth his Bic lighter can find all the porn he needs for free on the internet without even Googling you. Where's the "value added" in your product? Most 80 year old grandmas would look hot if they hid behind as much makeup as you do. Remember Tammy Faye? You're only a few years and a televangelist husband off, Brit.

As for the "entertainment" end of your schtick... c'mon! If you looked like Roseanne your sales would be right up there with salt and vinegar soaked Bandaids. All these 12 year old girls buying your "music" see your image on the cover, but shouldn't they be searching Limewire for the guy who programs your beats, the dude who writes your songs, the producer who knows how to work a miracle and make it sound like you actually can hold a tune? Where are the credits for the person who duct tapes your boobs together so when you pretend that you can dance your cleavage goes along for the ride? You should be marketed as "Britney Spears and Friends". I'll bet you have a lot of them, too.

I keep trying to understand the appeal, Britney, I really do. But if I wanted half the drama involved in being you I'd just watch daytime TV. If I wanted something as braindead as your lyrics I'd buy a 40 of rum and a straw. If I wanted a beat that everyone and their dog was using I'd just rip you off. Oops... I think I did it again. Sorry.

Someday, Britney, maybe you'll learn that self-respect doesn't have to involve stripping, shaking and turning pre-teen girls into the next whore wannabes. Maybe you'll understand the fact that with 3 chords the Ramones made far more complex music than you could pull off with an entire studio of professionals. Maybe, Britney, just maybe, you'll aspire to be a role model, not a pole model. Or maybe I'm asking too much.

I apologize, Ms. Spears, for being so forthcoming (or to use a word you might understand, bitchy). Thank you for taking the time to consider my concerns. I know that you must be busy trying to figure out which pile of lingerie you left your brain cell under. I hope I haven't offended you in any way, but truth is, your existence offends the hell out of me. Leave the lowest common denominator alone and pick on someone your own size. What is that anyway, 32D? Oh sorry, didn't mean to confuse you with numbers.

Kindest Regards,
Sue