Rolling Stone’s must-read Britney Spears cover story has me feeling conflicted.
On the one hand, I’m forced to tacitly accept responsibility and shame for being part of a culture that has consistently and institutionally betrayed a talented young woman, perverting her entire being, transforming her into the single most tragic figure in post-MTV pop culture history.
On the other, Vanessa Grigoriaidis’s piece totally taught me about my new favorite upper/downer drink: vodka, Red Bull, and Nyquil a.k.a. the Purple Monster (or, The Contents of My Fridge In A Cup).
“With Brit’s name attached, I guess they’re hip,” confides a college student, “She knows what she’s doing, you know,” says a 16 year old.
Awesome keep slurping, kids! Because let’s get real, this shit’s not depressing enough yet.

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