The full aspirations of our popular culture can be seen in the lives of those on whom it has had the opportunity to work its full effect. Most of us, despite our hedonistic inclinations, thankfully cannot partake fully of the trough slop the media serves us due to the constraints of "real life". However, celebrities are exempt from the requirements the rest of us live under and are thereby free to suffer the pathetic misery that is the inevitable culmination of our culture.

Britney's supposed to be cleaning up her act, but -- surprise, surprise -- she's not.

As a disheveled Brit left L.A.'s hip Italian eatery Dolce, she was overheard mumbling, "I love myself, I love myself," reports the New York Post. When a gawker told her she looked "beautiful," the party girl screeched, "I love you for saying that!"

She then celebrated the pat on the back by partying the night away at hotspot Le Deux.

It's hard to muster up sympathy for a millionaire who once had the world at her fingertips and is gradually throwing it away, but when I remember that money and fame are really rather unimportant I'm washed over by a wave of pity. Her marriage destroyed, her children raised by nannies, her body desecrated, her career in shambles... Britney Spears really has nothing left to live for but her nightly overdose of monetary morphine.

Yet another stark reminder that the world has a million trinkets to sell, but little of lasting value. It's a shame our culture can't glorify hard work, integrity, modesty, peacefulness, and responsibility.



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