Oh, dear friends. Sanity is such a frail and fragile bitch. I know my glass menagerie hasn't fared all that well this week. Presented with a few obstacles, I decided that perhaps Brit can't be fully blamed for her sudden shearing. By god, if we went around judging lapses in sanity after a split or during a moment of crisis like it was sharia law, we'd all have been stoned to death or at least caned by now. No, no, the emtional breakdown is as much the right of the well-maintained international playboy, as it is of the sulky, baldheaded, baby-momma, bumpkin, pop-star. Fortunately for us playboy types, the paparazzi aren't around as we manically call 18 times a number we KNOW won't be answered. Or when we throw a temper tantrum for badly phrased jokes. Yes, the breakdown is a cruel mistress, and when you wake up the next day in rehab or in shame, if you can see through the fog of depression and into the light of reality, you realize that the haughty bitch wasn't worth the trouble, and whatever brought Mistress Meltdown into your life, was but a trifle. Life after all, does continue. Britney may be kicking herself at the moment for her choice of clipper and umbrella weilding actions but if she's a tough cookie, and I know she must be, then she'll look back at this moment from the summit of her mountain of cash, wearing her tiara, and gently say "How Silly."
So must we all. Not from our mountain of cash perhaps, but from our own molehills of reality the realisation must dawn. "Eventually, i'll smile again."
In honor of Trifling the seemingly unsurmounatble, i'd like to share the following pop art images by a brilliant artist named Donald Topp.
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