Dearest Britney,

Normally, I wouldn’t lecture to such an easy target like yourself, but due to my recent elation when Tara “Party-Till-I-Drop” Reid followed my advice, my attitude has changed. I do recall counseling her to “embrace the slutty party image,” and it appears she’s indeed accepted a job as the new host of Wild On. Due to this stellar career advice, she has relaunched a global meeting of the alcoholic minds for the illustrious E! entertainment network. Imagine my surprise to see the positive influence this lone blogger managed to exert, so I find it somewhere in my little black heart to offer advice to the descending princess of pop music.

Oh Brit, I’ve seen the warning signs and am afraid you are in serious trouble. Your piece of crap reality show is about to meet the guillotine, and like, you’re really bummed out. While it is semi-relieving that you are “now undergoing counselling sessions to come to terms with [your] waning popularity,” further action is indeed warranted. To launch this discussion, I shall refer to your half-assed coup de e’tat against the false tabloids. You’re angry, Britney, since they treat you so poorly, but you have questions of your own:

I’m really concerned about the people you hire to work at your companies. I’d like them to ask themselves the question, “What am I lying to myself about?” Is it that you are 50 pounds overweight?

Okay, honey. Let’s get one thing straight - You no longer look like the sylph you once were (See photo on right). As such, you really have no room to poke fun at the hypothetical waistlines of those who work for false tabloids. Speaking of false tabloids, Britain’s Daily Star newspaper quotes a spokesperson of yours: “The worst thing is that the viewing figures are so low, she’s upset that her fans don’t seem to care anymore. It’s painful for her that her fans have stopped listening to what she has to say.” Hmmm. While I certainly cannot speak for your fans, I might know a reason why they aren’t interested any longer. In October 2004, the first letter to your fans appeared on your personal website. In this letter you implied weekly postings at minimum, and also promised the following:

I am going to start writing this column now as often as possible. The reason being is so I can talk directly to you, my fans, who have stuck by me & who continue to support me.

A very quick survey shows that you have written a total of eight postings for your fans. Wait - no, that’s not entirely correct - make that seven postings, since your mom wrote one of them while you were honeymooning with that dreamboat, Kevin “Look At My Ass Crack” Federline. Seven postings in seven months - like, y’all, that’s prolific. When you ignore your fans, well, Brit, those teenage girls will start to ignore you as well. After all, fame is ephemeral, and they have other idiotic popish icons to gaze upon in envy. In short, they have moved on.

Since you’re all about “Carpe Assum — Seize the Ass,” which is the slogan sported on one of your exceedingly stylish trucker hats, let’s make a starter list to help you out:

1. Ditch the reality show. Perhaps Ozzy Osborne could make it work, since oddly enough, watching him scoop up doggy poop is quite endearing to the masses. It must be some proletariat undercurrent from shovelling excrement that turns them on. In stark contrast, viewers tuned into the first episode of your show to see you begging your trashy hubby for sex and bragging about all-day sex sessions. Nobody wants to think of him humping you. Sorry to burst that bag o’ waters for y’all, but c’mon. Yuck.

2. Don’t diss the girls. ‘Twas a slap to all womanhood when you reportedly dumped Lucky the Chihuahua, simply because your husband was frightened of being attacked. Like, who’s afraid of a fucking Chihuahua?

3. Okay, like, I know I covered this topic, y’all, but it bears repeating. Puhleese stop telling the press that you love being pregnant because it means your sex life is even better. “I think it’s the best Sex is crazy good” is not a phrase we want to hear about boinking Kevin “Do I Look Like Jamiroquai?” Federline.

4. It couldn’t hurt to, like, take a shower every day. Don’t pop princess like you generally possess an entourage of stylists? Open that little black book of yours, Brit, and hire someone to brush your brassy locks and apply concealer before you venture out to the supermarket for Cheetos and Cocoa Puffs.

5. Realize that every other phrase you speak includes the word “Y’all.” Notice that I occasionally use that word on this blog. Each and every time I type that word, ’tis a hyperbolic imitation of your mannerisms. On second impulse, don’t stop saying that, since I kinda enjoy making that little private joke.

6. If you honestly cannot change your ways, take a break from the public eye. This would include not walking around looking like utter crap. After all, you placed yourself willingly in the public eye and made a shitload of money off your looks, which are fading fast. Rest assured that you can leave the principal in the bank and live off interest until you eventually croak from the exhaustion so common among celebrities these days.

Well, gotta go Brit. I need to…uh…go listen to some tunes by Christina Aguilera. Remember when you two were Mouseketeers together? She’s a much better singer than you’ll ever be.