Posts Tagged ‘bret michaels’

Rock of Love Bus, Episode 2: The Black Hole of Britney

January 18, 2009

First off, my apologies for the tardiness of this post.

Secondly, is there a more pathetic creature in all of humanity than Britney (aka Cleavageface #6)? I speak to the endless conflation (and this dovetails nicely with my previous post) of lust and idolatry that constitutes so much of what passes for love in this day and age.

Hunky Uncy Bret Michaels is not that attractive. He’s not that talented. He’s a greasy bundle of hair, mascara, genitals, and doggie barks. And he does not like it when people want to express their undying love for him. It clearly makes him uncomfortable. Why?

Because Hunky Uncy Bret likes boobs. Big ones. And nasty old-man Michaels sex.

But even moreso: Because you don’t know him. And Bret has enough self-awareness (having done this for two seasons), to acknowledge this.

The women who’ve been on the show have openly spoken about how they literally spend minutes with the man during the filming of the show. Yet this woman believes so desperately that this man is her soul mate. We laugh at people like Britney from our comfortable distance. We laugh at her because God, how could anyone ever fall in love with HIM? And so quickly?! It’s just all so ridiculous and unbelievable!

But there’s more truth than meets to the eye to Rock of Love.  I look around me, I look at these people who morph their lives for people they barely know, who utter “I love you” like it’s just a logical step instead of a complicated emotion. I look at these people so desperate to hold, to kiss, to fuck, the way they turn themselves inside out for it. I look at myself, at the self-control it takes to never let lust, or desire, or idiocy to dictate a relationship. At how often I fail at that.

And then I look at Britney on Rock of Love Bus, the girl who wrote five pages of wedding vows for Bret, who embarrassed herself with a sloppy lapdance in an even sloppier bikini, who was mocked incessantly by the rest of plastic furnaces (at times justly due to her blatant racism against Cleavageface #12 ((the black one))), and I can only witness another example of a woman (much like Femi on Bromance) made empty by our country’s slick and slimy amalgamation of lust and worship.

Does Bret want lust? That goes without saying.

Does want worship? Sure!

But how does he want them? In check. In equal measure. Worship him onstage, bone him off.

Like politics and religion, you just can’t mix the two.

This shit is depressing.

From the ether:

  • How clever was it to put Britney in the alien bed? Ah, the othering of the other.
  • Cleavageface #20 (Ashley) is a prime example of how excessive plastic surgery can freeze you in time, if not nullify large clumps of your brain. This woman exists in the black hole of ninth grade frosty whore.
  • I like when Bret gets drunk and drops the loving, best friend act.
  • Brittania thinks Bret is the hottest man she’s ever seen. And I believed her when she said it. I just…I…this, this is absolutely ridiculous…
  • This show is hard to watch.
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