Britney Spears Outing Makes Neighborhood "Unsafe"

What a spectacle! Suffice it to say, my life is a bed of roses compared to this celeb's. I cannot imagine how Britney continues to cope, or for that matter, even function. After feasting my eyes on this papafrenzi outing, knowing full well her recent custody litigation set backs, is it any wonder this woman is drugged out and estranged?



Thank goodness Jamie Lynn didn't take "No" for an answer. I heard she and big bro were turned away last week at the manse after trying to stage an intervention. Perhaps Ms. Herownworstenemy is now willing to accept a helping hand, what with the myriad of problems threatening to destroy both her and her career. Judging by this video, if Britney hasn't yet hit rock bottom, she's pretty darn close.

Is Brit turning tony Malibu into trailer park trash? Probably. But have a heart, wicked neighbor, so bold to scold about the safety of your precious neighborhood or lack thereof. Where is your compassion? Your less fortunate neighbor is suffering a very public meltdown. Her parents are unable to deal. Even The Donald's unsolicited offer of assistance languishes unheard.

The unbelievable part of this whole surreal saga is the magnitude of paparazzi trailing Britney's every move. She breaks a fingernail and it's news. Like a merciless tsunami refusing to recede, the constant crush of bodies must be overwhelming and exhausting. As I've previously noted in support of yet another overexposed embattled tart, life in the flash bulbs isn't a walk in the park. Fame comes with a heavy price.

Say what you will, but I have gobs of empathy for those less capable of navigating the fray. I never thought I would say this, but

"Leave Britney alone!"

If anyone is more deserving of scorn, it's the gaggle of vermin marring a sunny California morning with their incessant flashes and clicks. The popping and whirring noises alone would drive me insane. Is it really so difficult to sidestep these bottomfeeders? I must conclude Ms. Malibu Hag lacks a certain amount of coordination and civility. You know the type. Prefers a stationary bike to more challenging activity and hates to send or receive holiday cards. Bah. Humbug.

Can't help but note the irony of Ms. Hag's public tantrum. As boomeranging slings and arrows rained down upon her $3.5 million beachfront noggin (which these days only buys something akin to a shack), she unwittingly brought the papanazzi to Britney's defense. It's a sad day in Tinseltown when one's biggest protectors are the same people making life so unberable. Then again, nothing in el Lay surprises me. Not even when a morning stroll about town deteriorates into fodder for tabloids.