K-Fed. Dude. Come on. Stop trying to win her back with your lame poetry, put down the weed and the Chunky Monkey and listen up. Yeah, I know. Getting divorced is a major bummer. But you don’t have to take this lying down. And you had to have known you couldn’t be Mr. Britney Spears forever. Just ask Jason Alexander. At least you had the job for more than a few hours. But before you fade into little more than an occasional National Enquirer crossword puzzle clue or a question on Jeopardy!, let me give you a little career advice.
1. Go into rehab. Even if you’re not hooked on anything. Better to check into the Betty Ford or wherever before the cops find you in the back seat with Divine Brown or before you slug down a pint of gin and a couple of Ambien and “accidentally” drive your Porsche into her favorite club. It builds sympathy points with the press and you’ll look not like some rank schlub loser who just got his ass dumped but A Good Father Who Has Realized The Error Of His Ways And Is Getting his Poor, Troubled Life Back Together. Just ask Patrick Kennedy or Mel Gibson. Trust me. And while you’re there fumbling your way through art therapy and making your own bed, it wouldn’t hurt to bulk up a little. Lift a few weights, do some crunches. Like, a thousand of them.
2. Send the two kids you had with Shar Jackson some money, for God’s sake. You can’t go around demanding sole custody of the children you had with Britney while ignoring the two you already had. Get with it. You’re changing your image, here. And lose the tattoo while you’re at it. Gang-banger tats don’t work on white guys. Seen Vanilla Ice lately? Huh? I didn't think so.
3. Cut another album. Don’t worry that the first one sucked. Soon you’ll be as hot as Justin Timberlake. It doesn’t matter that you can’t sing. Neither can he, and nothing seems to be stopping him. Just get yourself a few more lessons (under no circumstances let anyone know about this) and a better studio, and the best publicist you can afford. Make sure to include at least one of those heavy metal-type ballads that says, “I’m so over you, you untalented slut.” Oh. And learn some better dance moves. Please.
4. When your very expensive publicist starts getting you so much airplay that your Top 40 hit becomes a ring tone, hook up with a hot older babe. Ashton Kutcher would still be that stupid guy on “That 70’s Show” if not for Demi Moore. See if Janet Jackson or Julia Roberts is available. Then be seen everywhere.
5. Find religion. Don’t make it too obvious a stretch, like Tom Cruise finding Scientology or Madonna, that nice Catholic girl, studying Kaballah. Take your time doing research. Or have your agent do it for you. Find one that seems natural to you. Then make it public. When you agree to an exclusive interview for Rolling Stone magazine, say you’ve had a revelation that all that partying was just to replace a need in his life, and he’d been really been searching for something more spiritual for years. Unfortunately that was not one of Ms. Spears’ priorities.
6. Have your publicist get you a gig singing the National Anthem at a NASCAR race. It will show that even though you’re on your way to becoming a big hot star, you’re still a regular guy.
7. Get yourself a guest-voice spot on “The Simpsons.” If it makes fun of you, so much the better. It will show that you can laugh at yourself.
8. If you run into trouble, call Sean Penn, Lyle Lovett, or, in a dire pinch, Tom Arnold, for advice or a shoulder to cry on. NEVER let this happen in public. Unless you are all out with hot babes at the same time.
9. Now that your self-esteem is high and you’re coming into your own, hit the interview circuit and talk how much you love being a father. Stress that even though Britney is a sorry-ass flash in the pan, you will absolutely be there for the kids. That is, between dates with your Older Hot Babe and gigs and the occasional movie role.
Good luck, dude. We’re pulling for you.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
I love the title of your site: I can't stand the smurfs - the concept is just too stupid. Is there a story behind the site name?
Oh btw, nice article- there's something grotesquely depressing about gold digger wiggers, as well as pop stars in general.
I have mixed feelings about these pop tarts and the dregs of humanity they attract. Who is dumber: the pop stars or the people who 1. pay to buy or download their music; or 2. buy tabloid rags to read about their scandals?
I find it fascinating, from a sociological viewpoint.
No real story behind the site name...I hated smurfs too, and was annoyed that Gargamel, for all his hand-wringing and gnashing of teeth and plot hatching, could never take them out. I was always rooting for him...the way I rooted for the coyote.
Thanks for reading!
Post a Comment