An Open Letter to Lynne Spears

Hey Lynne,

Now that your daughter is sitting in a dry out tank, bald, depressed, and forfeiting custody of your grandsons on a daily basis to that son-in-law who you suspected was nothing but a worthless gold digger, what I want to ask you, mother to mother, is was it worth it?

You must have had the best intentions when you dressed little, 16-year-old Brittney up like every pedophile’s favorite school girl cocktease, and had her writhing on the floor in her first music video. After all, the money was probably pretty sweet when she posed in a bra on the cover of Rolling Stone. I’m sure you couldn’t have foreseen the trauma that thrusting a young girl into the world of adult sexuality could have brought.

I guess while you were counting the millions, you just never stopped to consider the negative side of sending your daughter out on tour to lip sync a show wearing nothing more than a bra and hot pants. She probably seemed like she was having fun when she was smiling, although you were likely standing on the side of the stage giving her the strict order to keep that frown turned upside down when she was too tired to wear that marketed brand of Brittney cheer.

You must have been a little upset when she decided to hook up with Kevin. He almost fucked up your absolute power plan. If he would have stayed in the picture a moment longer, maybe Brittney would have realized that she didn’t need to use her tits and ass to get press. Perhaps she was telling the truth in that Matt Lauer interview, and just wanted to be a mom and wife and keep a house. Of course the problem with Brittney becoming happily married and domestic is that it just doesn’t pay as well as having a wild child with no panties partying until dawn. The tabloids love a famous girl that doesn’t wear panties.

I guess it didn’t matter to you that when you forced your daughter’s well-marketed virgin/whore persona on the cultural landscape, you were telling other girls that they needed to be the quintessential sex objects, too. Prior to Brittney, blatant sexuality was restricted to females over the age of 18, but you managed to help destroy that last beacon of decency and create a generation of girls who believe that they are only worth the sex they can provide to men.

Lynne, what I’m wondering now is where does it go from here? Once the girls turn into women and realize that they’ve treated their bodies like garbage receptors, been used by everyone and thrown away, and are confronted with the reality that party girls are fun to fuck, but aren’t the type of woman anyone wants to be with for more than a few hours, what are these women to do?

Brittney had her own way of handling things. She married a loserish guy to get away from you, had two kids in an attempt to find real love, then when all else failed and she was staring down the fact that she was nothing more than yesterday’s fad, she went nuts with a razor and wound up screaming like a mad woman in front of Kevin’s house. Where were you, Lynne?

I guess from here out you have two choices; you could help Brittney through this hard time in her life, let her settle down with Kevin whether you like him or not, and be the mother and housewife she wants to be, or you could milk it for the last drop. After all, when Brittney is done and over with, you always have Jamie Lynn.

Regretfully,
Mel the Punk in Suburbia