For your consideration

Read this article and marvel at the writer’s attempt to draw some sort of controversial statement from the player. The writer wants his opinion to be right so badly, that you can almost feel him squirming as he types each quote from the player.

“Why won’t he agree with me! I want to feel like a minority too!”

Sad

Recently, Brittany Spears’ role as a mother has been dealt another blow and seems as though it may descend to being merely a biological fact. Custody of her two kids has been awarded to her ex-husband, Mr. Federline who, while not necessarily an exemplar of virtue or healthy paternal instincts, probably won the suit due to some judgment along the lines of ” he’s less likely to take children to a bar on a school-night, get them drunk, and make them sing karaoke versions of his songs.”

Now, this is somewhat laughable, and I’m sure SNL and MadTv will have a grand time satirizing the turn of events, but (to surprise myself) I am rather sad for her. A prelude of her many failings cannot mitigate that legally losing her children and having the event broadcast to all the world is a humiliating and shameful tragedy. It may be the kind of deprivation that eventually leads her to clean up her act and it may even (to the joy of the music business) inspire some really heart-rending ballads. It is easy to be callous. She has more money than I’ve ever dreamed of wasting, and has lived the “American dream” that many dream of, so why should we be compassionate, right? It is, admittedly, much easier to feel tenderness and generosity rising up when Bono and crew sing about the starving nations of Africa—showing us pictures of their lean faces and distended bellies. All this we can change with the purchase of, for example, a red T-shirt from the GAP or wearing a white wrist-band. We can “care” and be cool. We can praise the memory of Mother Theresa who worked in the slums of Calcutta, and send money to the nuns still working among the untouchables. Their work is important! Humanitarian! Feeding the hungry, healing the sick. Bono just won some new award and well he deserves it. But no amount of red t-shirts or wristbands or buying her new album will make Brittany a better mother, or undo the past ignominious year of her life—the pain of which will perpetuate her cycle of self-destruction or finally ring out a clarion call for some real change for the better in her life, and I for one hope she hears it, even if there aren’t any awesome ballads involved. No one deserves compassion, or second chances, and it’s so easy to feel good about spending my extra money on something that has near immediate results. Put bread in a baby in watch flesh cover their bones. Do it a million times over, direct the wealth of nations, and win yourself the Nobel prize. But who has the patience or skill to heal the wounded heart behind the momentary hunger?