I find it irresistible to blog about good weather, such as today’s –high 73 at 2 pm!
A day like this is one of those rare occasions where life itself is in charge of reassuring us that things can be this good from time to time; that it is possible for the sun to shine benevolently and with insouciant warmth in the middle of winter.
Today’s thoroughly positive, happy energy is a welcome respite for everyone, I think. Even if winter is a favorite season and even if you look forward to donning all your warm woolies for three months straight, you might find a little pleasure in a day that lets you walk around in short sleeves, even for a couple of hours, right?
I mean, I am pretty sure that the corollary statement– that an unusually cool day in the middle of summer is also a delightful and welcome event– stands as well as it delights, right? Variety is the spice of life, and so huzzah for today!
I am the only soul on this green earth who has not blogged about Britney’s latest debacle, huh.
Remember what I just wrote about variety being the spice of life?
When was the last time the Britney steamroller surprised us with anything out of the ordinary– anything where we can get to root for her and feel good for her and maybe get back to secretly envying the rock-hard abs and the tight butt and the fake boobs on the red leather leotard?
When was the last time Britney stopped being entertainment with a high wince factor?
I think the last time she was able to cast herself in any kind of positive light was back in the fall of 2006– shortly before the world at large became her impromptu gynecologist. Now every time there is a news item about this sad little sick fool, anyone who still cares to stomach reading the whole story gets to play amateur psychiatrist (is she bipolar? is it PPD? is it psychosis? is she just dumb? is she on drugs? illegal ones?) and single-mindedly recommend that someone show enough sense and charity for this woman and get her committed to a mental institution.
The story hasn’t varied. The cast keeps getting more and more transient and shady, and the sick person just gets sicker. Meanwhile, an entire city seems to be the hostage in this situation, and the two poor children she brought into this world get to be raised by the one parent most people thought was the incompetent one, while the incompetence of her own parenting becomes painfully and starkly evident. Adding to this is the bitter irony that she seems to be exposing herself of her own volition– no one is setting her up, but instead she makes dates and tips off the paparazzi, who by now seem to be her only stable if obtrusive friends.
At this point, all I can hope for is a drop-off in the volume of stories related to her, and that she gets the help that she needs.