| Now |


16 December 2000, 00:00

How have I ever lived without VH1’s Behind The Music? Just got finished watching yet another band had it all, drank it all, screwed it all, vomitted, hit bottom, came back and now, much wiser for it. Makes you think that the most successful bands have as members the most stupidest humans on earth. Although, I don’t know why I expected more from groups of white guys who regularly run around in womens clothing, tease their hair until its bigger than Reba Mcintyre’s and go on stage to prance like drugged up roosters for a living. And always, they say this is the “real” high for which they they live.

Well, then, after refilling my bowl of cocoa puffs, VH1 presented “Before They Were Rock Stars”. A gold mine of rare footage and potentially embarassing moments… a cornocopia of entertainment. And low and behold, there was a little clip of Britney Spears singing on Star Search when she was a fetus. She had a strong little voice and was an alto – which is a refreshing change for the high pitched little cherubs that belt out numbers from “Cats” and “Annie” which invaribly make your ears bleed. She was about six inches tall and had just a bucket load of curly curls hugging her little head.

Now, to preface this, I have nothing against Britney Spears or that Christina Bebopper whoever, although a have festering in my stummy that brings bile to the edge of my throat when I see Ricky Martin or Nsync shake there booties on the tube. I don’t begrude whatever success she has, because god knows it keeps her off the streets, and it corals bunches of other blonde little prepubescents in large congregations and contingents which, thank goodness seem to be far away from wherever I happen to conduct my life. So, contrary to popular opinion, I think the presence of Britney is NOT some curse from Satan, sent to punish the poofy haired and fluffy brained.

But, good golly, Brit, what the hell happen to you? Does your mommy know that you have stolen some adult woman’s breast and wearing them on TV? And where, when she was young, the little pop princess could belt out a tune, now she sounds a bit like a cybernetic chipmunk. Some of the synthesized warbles have actually made household pets explode. Well, not really, but I wouldn’t be surprised if somewhere someone, recuperating from the seizures they had when they watched too many of those Japenese animes on the cartoon network, sat down to watch the MTV video awards and had a relapse during “Oops, I did it again…” The songs she croons are bubblegum pop – which in itself isn’t a crime – but it seems that it would behoove miss Madonna-wannabe to remember, most of her little ditties probably won’t have the staying power of, say, “Stairway to Heaven”. Although, I still listen to Tiffany’s “I Think We’re Alone Now” which envokes nostalgia for when I was a prepuby and my most daring thought was fantasizing how Simon Lebon of Duran Duran would kiss me if we were both trapped in an elevator together.

And everytime I see her, she is wear less and less, but yet every interview is her talking of her empowerment and controlling her own sexuality by wearing those spandex band-aids she calls costumes. I call it a boner fest. Prepubic girlies wanting to be her, prepubic boys… well, I don’t want to know what they do. It may be empowering to her, but I’m suspecting that its more for commercial purposes than anybody is telling her. Maybe they’re telling her, but she probably doesn’t comprehend the complexities of abstract thought expressed in multisyllabic phrases.

After all, those interviews I’ve seen of her are just precious gems and goes to show me that we do NOT teach enough in school. I really wonder what this, the whole pop princess phenomenon teaches young girls. Most young girls are wanting to be older too fast, in my opinion, wanting to stampede to the point where they can “play with your heart” and have there blossoming bosoms bigger through the wonders of modern science. Empowerment is all well and good, but what of discretion and self respect. I’ve seen mothers of young men totally amazed at the forwardness and the gall of young little preteens who chase their little pretty sons, calling at all hours, pushing limits of appropriateness. This is a new trend to me. I often wonder how short childhood is, without society encouraging children to shorten it even more.

There just ain’t enough cocoa puffs in the universe….