Can’t see a group of teen girls being brought into a prison for a “sock-hop”; it’d be like chucking chum to sharks. So the image of prisoners innocently cavorting with a group of local girls doesn’t seem realistic. It’s much more likely that everyone in the jail is a guy, which means the song is obviously a tribute to the oldest and most infamous aspect of prison life: anal rape.

Number 47 said to Number 3
You’re the cutest jailbird I ever did see
I sure would be delighted with your company
Come on and do the Jailhouse Rock with me

It’s obvious that Number 47 is attracted to Number 3 and would like to take him somewhere for some quality time. “Quality time” being a raw rectal rooting of the most sordid and lascivious nature. Taken in this context, the term “jailhouse rock” seems to be slang for the act of homosexual love.

I wonder if Elvis ever thought about this as he sang it? It certainly makes it more amusing when you see the baby boomers jiving to it at weddings.

Elvis assumes the "mounting" position

I’m checking out CNN (god knows why) this morning and on the first page, the place where they supposedly put the most important stuff, is a story about how Britney got married in Vegas. Of course she immediately arranged to have it anulled because marriage—like everything else in her life—is one big joke. Ha. Good one, Brit.

And of course this report is accompanied by the usual tales of drunken debauchery that get denied by the ever-faithful publicist, who shakes her head emphatically “no” while scrubbing at the vomit stains on her slacks.

What corner of Hell spawned this useless creature, this festering boil on the underside of humanity’s feet? And why are people obsessed with her and celebrities in general? Do we really think that these people lead these super glamorous lives and that they are somehow better or happier than we are? How did we let it get this far, where Britney Spears not only actually believes she is talented and deserves her success, but that she matters?

The name of Britney’s new album is Me Against the Music and I can’t think of a more appropriate title. She has probably done more damage to music than all the Ricky Martins and Color Me Badds combined. She is against any type of music that involves creativity, originality, artistic merit and the most minute microscopic hint of what musicians (and true music lovers) know as “soul”. She has contributed to the decline of true musicianship on the charts and radio and has led to an army of clones who are hell-bent on continuing her legacy of trash by crowding out real artists with over-exposed manufactured hits and a calculated swish of their thong-strangled asses.

In order to attract an audience Britney has to do two things:

• Dress provocatively and act slutty.
• Lip-sync all her songs because she can’t really sing. And anyway, it would be hard to carry a tune while running around and dry humping the gay guys on stage.

I think Britney is at the 14 minute of her 15 minute limit. I think she will continue to sink into more and more public displays of reckless behaviour. Her fans will reach puberty and realize that she is neither cool nor a respectable role model. In short, her shit will finally start to stink.

And maybe, after all the money has been spent and the albums languish in bargain bins all across the country, she’ll wind up at a party somewhere. And someone will hand her a guitar and ask her to play a few tunes. And Britney, looking around in a panic for her dance ensemble and ready-cued tape, will hold the guitar like a lesbian holding a penis. And realizing that she cannot even begin to “play”, indeed cannot even fathom what it is to coax music forth from the muse, she will run for the hills, never to be seen again.

(But if she ever did get the urge to do that Playboy spread…well, maybe we could look past that one.)