So anyway, the video! Well, basically Weaveney twirls around on a stage the whole time as always-present, intrusive cameras record her every move. (Because, in case you didn't know, that's how she lives her entire life!)
There's a bit at the beginning where she's popping and grinding with some hunky dancers, but I couldn't tell if they were cute, despite their Day Glo-colored hair, because I was too busy having a seizure over a.) the unmitigated ferocity of Britney's bullet belt, and 5.) the camera work.
Oh, wait—she only blows her dancers out of her dress. Meanwhile, looks like Tipsyney's been chugging Jack and playing with the Crayola magic markers again, because now she's gotten the shit all over her hands. Fuckin' Britney!!!!
Now, what's this shit? Lesbianfantasyney has split into two broads, and each is wearing the living room drapes and kicking the other one in the puss-ney! Wait—this is hot! Please, God—LET THERE BE SCISSORNEY!!!!!!!!!
Uh-oh. Did Corpseney just kick the bucket? No, no, no, pop chyldryn. For you see, that will never, ever happen. The Britney Construct does not allow for termination of the ComputerChipney program. She will simply live on through flashes of light and currents of electricity, coursing through the channels of cultures and societies long after we mere mortals are but dust.
Let's face it—I don't know what happened here. This Britney Spears clip is like a great allegory, a Twisted Music Video Enigma that may never truly reveal its intricate secrets. Something tells me even Jigsawney didn't know what the hell was going on while the cameras were rolling—she probably just followed the trail of red Skittles Jonas laid out from her front door to the soundstage.
But I'm just gonna keep watching as I lurch back and forth, till it's four in the morning, and my mouth is foaming, my eyes are crossed, and my head is swiveling from side to side, and I'm quietly whispering, "Britney...Britney...the lights are so, so pretty, Britney...."
