Rob Zombie—“Educated Horses”
A couple few years ago, I offered Britney Spears the chance to converse
with me, probably so that I could offer her guidance and support. I say
probably since I really can’t recall the real reason why, but guidance
and support thing sounds like me so that’s most probably what it was.
Of course she never responded and look where she is now. A divorced,
single mother looking for the proper guidance and support only I could
have offered oh so many years ago.
If she had, she wouldn’t be a divorced single mother. She wouldn’t be
out flashing her nether regions to the world. Not that there’s anything
wrong with free-balling (or, in her case, free-boating, free-tacoing,
free-lipping, free-ginaing, free-pieing, free-beavering, etc., etc.) but
it should be kept to a select very few, with just a hint so the general
public wonders what’s exactly going on down there.
She definitely wouldn’t be hanging around with the likes of Paris
Hilton. Having Britney under Paris’ wing is like having a crackwhore
with a pimp; sure it good for the Britneys and crackwhores of the world
for a while, but when they’re too tired to put out anymore the
Parispimps will beat them down and humiliate them so badly that
rehabilitation in Crackwhore Village would be virtually impossible.
Besides, Paris annoys me. It’s something about her face. It’s like it
got caught on it’s downward journey in the birth canal and had to be
yanked out with a rusty spork, then hand-molded into something that
doesn’t look totally alien.
A recent look at her face caused me to sit back and think what it’s best
use would be. For some reason, it seems not like a human face, but
something that could be used to chop down a tree. I don’t know exactly
why, but it’s something to do with those alien-like angles. Go ahead and
try it, I can almost guarantee that you’d be able to cut through a tree
like butter with her face. She’d probably have to agree to it, but look
who we’re talking about. Just offer her some booze and dick (hell, a
phallic bottle of beer 1/4 filled with backwash would do) and she’ll be
game for anything.
But back to Britney since this is an open invitation to turn her life
around one last time: C’mon, talk to me! I can help. I’m a good
listener. I can write lyrics like “Ohhh baby, ahhh baby, ummm baby”. I
can come up with some great song titles for your next opus like “(Stick
Your Finger in My) Hot Pie” or “My Little Man in the Boat”. Kids a
burden? They can be sold on fucking ebay, or put to work. Whatever you
want, I’ll do!
The clock starts ticking……..
COMING NEXT: Britney doesn’t respond, proving again that I just wasted