Here's an article I submitted to a web journal about celebrity comeback predictions for 2008.
Have you ever wondered what happens to celebrities when their star fades? The fame game is notoriously fickle, and the celebrity revolving door can have you on the cover of the tabloids one week, and at the end of the sentence “whatever happened to…” the next. Yet every year there seems to be a handful of fallen stars who, by hard work or sheer, dumb luck, return to the spotlight, sometimes wiser for their journey, sometimes just hungry for a second taste. Pop culture loves a comeback story.
Comeback predictions are a tricky business. The American public has a rebellious, independent spirit, and tastemakers and celebrity pundits are, more often than not, dead wrong about the way the entertainment winds blow. Our celebrity history is littered with unexpected resurgences from one-hot stars that no one saw coming. Think John Travolta after his Oscar-nominated work in “Pulp Fiction”, or Kylie Minogue on the heels of “Can’t Get You Out of My Head” becoming the biggest song of 2002. Remember Donny Osmond returning to the charts with “Soldier of Love” in the early 90’s? The best comebacks are the ones that catch us unaware, showing us someone we thought we knew so well in a new light, or reminding us why we loved them in the first place.
Now we sit at a new year, and with a nod to the precarious nature of the task at hand, here are some predictions for who’s due for a re-match with fame in 2008:
Justine Bateman- With the resurgence of brother Jason’s career and a much talked about turn on his cult hit sitcom “Arrested Development”, this is a plum year for the former Mallory Keaton to stage a comeback. Maybe a clever, well-written cable sitcom a la “Sex and the City”, or a supporting role in an ensemble piece, like her recent work on “Men In Trees”.
Whitney Houston- With her train-wreck marriage and (alleged) drug habit behind her, the diva is poised to take the charts back from the children who’ve come in her wake. She should take a note from the comeback of her one-time duet partner Mariah Carey and shoot for a collaboration with a hot, young producer. A great song is all she’d need to drive that reality show right out of our minds and put the attention right back where it belongs, on that glorious voice.
Joshua Jackson- Not much has been heard from this “Dawson’s Creek” dreamboat since the show ended its run in 2003, but Jackson was recently rumored to be in the running for the lead role of Irwin ‘Fletch’ Fletcher in the long awaited “Fletch Lives”, stepping into the role made famous by Chevy Chase. Jackson could re-invent himself as a movie funnyman, casting off his teen idol past and winning a legion of new fans.
Ricki Lake- With a new documentary about natural childbirth on the way, and a new comedy series on tap, the one time princess of “oh no you didn’t” daytime talk could reclaim her public this year. A reunion with gross-out comedy king John Waters, who discovered Lake for his 1988 film “Hairspray”, could bring lots of attention to her new projects.
Britney Spears- What could be said about Miss Spears that hasn’t already been written. Allegations of drug use and mental illness, loss of visitation with her children, beating up cars with umbrellas, the past year has been a bad one for the pop singer. The sole highlight was her music; she scored a number one single with “Gimme More” and her “Blackout” album was well-reviewed. A sober, coherent Spears could shock the world and prove the skeptics wrong with a tour or even another record, putting attention back on her work and not on her antics.
Bill Clinton- With his wife making a historic run at the White House, Bill has come out of semi-retirement and is on the campaign trail, reminding us that he is probably the most skillful politician in American history. Despite his reputation for, um, overindulgences, the former President is still very well-liked by voters and will likely be out in force over the election year, campaigning for another trip to Pennsylvania Avenue, this time as First Husband.
So, like most of you, I’m anxious to see what awaits us in 2008. The possibilities are endless; who will be big, who will fall from grace, and who will scratch their way back into the limelight from obscurity. If the past is any indication, whoever it is, it will make a great story.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
The Weird
So, everyone I know is having weird/bad stuff happen to them right now. I wonder if I'm bad luck! Seriously, I even read a bunch of horoscopes today for people I know and it was all negative. I'm not usually one to get caught up in this kind of stuff, but it seems bizarre that all these random, unexplained disasters are happening to all these people who are otherwise unrelated. I'm gonna be a hippie tonight and chant for cleansing energy for all my friends.
Started working out again this AM, and I'm committing myself to at least 30 mins every morning. Keep me honest!
XO- B
Started working out again this AM, and I'm committing myself to at least 30 mins every morning. Keep me honest!
XO- B
Friday, January 25, 2008
One down...
Finished "Cola Wars" yesterday, that's 4 stories for the collection totally done. Next up is "Blackbirds", which I have no idea about yet. I'm actually doing some research about colonial justice for this one. That's right, a period piece. It's got burnt witches, zombies, all the good stuff.
I have 2 more ideas for stories that I hope I can get down quickly. I'm going to try to put myself on a one-story-a-week deadline after February. I've committed myself to making an album (!!!???) in February, so all the writing I'll be doing is lyrics, probably bad ones.
In music news, I'm re-discovering Nina Gordon's "Bleeding Heart Graffiti". If you haven't heard of it (and you probably haven't, thanks to commercial radio), it's good rainy day music.
I have 2 more ideas for stories that I hope I can get down quickly. I'm going to try to put myself on a one-story-a-week deadline after February. I've committed myself to making an album (!!!???) in February, so all the writing I'll be doing is lyrics, probably bad ones.
In music news, I'm re-discovering Nina Gordon's "Bleeding Heart Graffiti". If you haven't heard of it (and you probably haven't, thanks to commercial radio), it's good rainy day music.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Album
So, I think I'm going to sign up for RPM 08, where you record an album during the month of February. Anyone want to help?
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Hungry- Excerpt
So, for those of you not in the know, I'm working on a collection of short stories, which I plan on self-publishing later in the year. It's my equivilent of a literary "demo tape", which I can hopefully use to find an agent and try to sell my novel. Any-hoo, I wanted to post the first part of story I started working on over a year ago, put away, then have pulled out and polished up for the collection. Feedback is appreciated.
PS- (c) 2008 by Brian Bolin, all rights TOTALLY reserved. On with the gore...
"I can remember the precise moment when I realized that the dull golden glow in my recurring nightmares were eyes. I was walking from the bus stop right in front of Henry's Liquors down I Street, toward my apartment. I paused to pick up a penny that was gleaming on the sidewalk. I slipped it into my mouth as I always do, eager for the coppery tingle on the back of my tongue and tonsils. I ignored the disgusted look shot at me by a potato of a woman walking towards me and closed my eyes. So good, so so good...
I opened my eyes and glanced to my right, into the black inches of space between Henry's and its dilapidated Victorian neighbor and saw a pair of golden eyes flickering at me. The light played across them as the pupils danced black, then red, then iridescent green, but the iris was golden-yellow. The eyes regarded me cooly, interested, scared a little. My body went cold as the shock of recognition slammed into the back of my head and I gasped, ignorant of the penny still resting on my palate. The copper disc jarred sideways and stuck itself deep into my esophagus. I was still thinking, "eyes, they're eyes," when I made an attempt at inhaling. The penny lodged ever more secure into my narrow airway and the realization that I was choking finally slapped me open-handed across the face.
As we all learn in elementary school, the universal sign for choking is to grab your throat. I did exactly that at once as I felt the panic spread down my spine and through the webwork of nerves. I tried to scream, but my airless lungs only managed a throaty croak. The potato woman, now a block in the other direction, managed to hear me and turned to face me. I increased the strength of my grip on my neck and tried to make my purpling face into the most pathetic "HELP ME" expression I could muster under the circumstances. The muscles in her face pushed her loose, fleshy jowls into a carnival mask of terror and she rushed toward me. The sight of her propelling toward me, her silver hair escaping in wisps from a no-nonsense bun at the base of her crinkled neck, her colorless, shapeless form hurtling at her top speed made me re-think my desire for her help and I started to turn, deciding to place my fist at the base of my sternum and try to drive the penny out myself. Just as I braced for the punch of my hand, potato woman reached me. With a strength I would never have thought her capable of, she twirled me to face her. By now, my face was hot and probably aubergine and my vision was pocked with pulsing lights, so I was unable to resist when she forced my lips and teeth apart and drove her fingers into my throat.
Her fingers felt like chicken bones wrapped in soft leather and tasted like perfumy hand soap. I felt her constrict and then the penny slip out of its resting place. The oxygen rushed in past the obstruction of hand and metal and I felt my face relax into something more like normal. That's when I bit down hard on potato woman's fingers.
"SON OF A BITCH," Potato lady howled and tried to shake her fingers loose. The struggle slid her age-tender flesh against the shining edge of my front teeth. The skin parted and a rush of blood rushed under my tongue. It tasted just like the pennies, coppery and salty and delicious. I was enthralled by the flavor, and was oblivious when potato lady pounded the side of my head with her purse. I snapped to and opened my mouth, releasing her hand. I looked at her and could see her ancient face, pink with rage. Her lips were moving and she was clearly animated, but I could hear nothing. I reached up and touched my face and felt the slime of tears, snot and potato lady's blood. My re-oxyginated mind started to put the pieces of the past four minutes back in the correct order and I realized I had better run.
By now, a couple of pedestrians, a young couple in their early twenties, had heard Ms. Potato's screams and had stopped to help her. I turned to make my getaway, when I was grabbed on the arm by one of the lady's saviors, the male. He was about my height, roughly 6 feet, and his grip was solid. He said something that sounded like "Helped you, didn't it" but was probably "Hang on a minute." I turned to face him and to try to evade his grip. I looked into his eyes, he was handsome, soft-jawed but masculine. He looked back at my face, then his expression changed. His healthy golden countenance turned milk-white and his pupils pulled back into dots. His iron grip released suddenly, like a mouse trap in reverse.
"Go. Please, just go," he managed to stammer weakly. I wasted no time, except to see out of the corner of my eye a great black cat scurry out from the area next to the store. The cat gave me a last look with those huge yellow eyes, then ran down I Street. I put one long leg in front of the other as fast as I could in the opposite direction."
PS- (c) 2008 by Brian Bolin, all rights TOTALLY reserved. On with the gore...
"I can remember the precise moment when I realized that the dull golden glow in my recurring nightmares were eyes. I was walking from the bus stop right in front of Henry's Liquors down I Street, toward my apartment. I paused to pick up a penny that was gleaming on the sidewalk. I slipped it into my mouth as I always do, eager for the coppery tingle on the back of my tongue and tonsils. I ignored the disgusted look shot at me by a potato of a woman walking towards me and closed my eyes. So good, so so good...
I opened my eyes and glanced to my right, into the black inches of space between Henry's and its dilapidated Victorian neighbor and saw a pair of golden eyes flickering at me. The light played across them as the pupils danced black, then red, then iridescent green, but the iris was golden-yellow. The eyes regarded me cooly, interested, scared a little. My body went cold as the shock of recognition slammed into the back of my head and I gasped, ignorant of the penny still resting on my palate. The copper disc jarred sideways and stuck itself deep into my esophagus. I was still thinking, "eyes, they're eyes," when I made an attempt at inhaling. The penny lodged ever more secure into my narrow airway and the realization that I was choking finally slapped me open-handed across the face.
As we all learn in elementary school, the universal sign for choking is to grab your throat. I did exactly that at once as I felt the panic spread down my spine and through the webwork of nerves. I tried to scream, but my airless lungs only managed a throaty croak. The potato woman, now a block in the other direction, managed to hear me and turned to face me. I increased the strength of my grip on my neck and tried to make my purpling face into the most pathetic "HELP ME" expression I could muster under the circumstances. The muscles in her face pushed her loose, fleshy jowls into a carnival mask of terror and she rushed toward me. The sight of her propelling toward me, her silver hair escaping in wisps from a no-nonsense bun at the base of her crinkled neck, her colorless, shapeless form hurtling at her top speed made me re-think my desire for her help and I started to turn, deciding to place my fist at the base of my sternum and try to drive the penny out myself. Just as I braced for the punch of my hand, potato woman reached me. With a strength I would never have thought her capable of, she twirled me to face her. By now, my face was hot and probably aubergine and my vision was pocked with pulsing lights, so I was unable to resist when she forced my lips and teeth apart and drove her fingers into my throat.
Her fingers felt like chicken bones wrapped in soft leather and tasted like perfumy hand soap. I felt her constrict and then the penny slip out of its resting place. The oxygen rushed in past the obstruction of hand and metal and I felt my face relax into something more like normal. That's when I bit down hard on potato woman's fingers.
"SON OF A BITCH," Potato lady howled and tried to shake her fingers loose. The struggle slid her age-tender flesh against the shining edge of my front teeth. The skin parted and a rush of blood rushed under my tongue. It tasted just like the pennies, coppery and salty and delicious. I was enthralled by the flavor, and was oblivious when potato lady pounded the side of my head with her purse. I snapped to and opened my mouth, releasing her hand. I looked at her and could see her ancient face, pink with rage. Her lips were moving and she was clearly animated, but I could hear nothing. I reached up and touched my face and felt the slime of tears, snot and potato lady's blood. My re-oxyginated mind started to put the pieces of the past four minutes back in the correct order and I realized I had better run.
By now, a couple of pedestrians, a young couple in their early twenties, had heard Ms. Potato's screams and had stopped to help her. I turned to make my getaway, when I was grabbed on the arm by one of the lady's saviors, the male. He was about my height, roughly 6 feet, and his grip was solid. He said something that sounded like "Helped you, didn't it" but was probably "Hang on a minute." I turned to face him and to try to evade his grip. I looked into his eyes, he was handsome, soft-jawed but masculine. He looked back at my face, then his expression changed. His healthy golden countenance turned milk-white and his pupils pulled back into dots. His iron grip released suddenly, like a mouse trap in reverse.
"Go. Please, just go," he managed to stammer weakly. I wasted no time, except to see out of the corner of my eye a great black cat scurry out from the area next to the store. The cat gave me a last look with those huge yellow eyes, then ran down I Street. I put one long leg in front of the other as fast as I could in the opposite direction."
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Chocolate Lament
Is it possible to resist chocolate?
I only know a few people who claim not to like chocolate, and I consider all of them suspect. My mother included. How can you not love it? It's sweet, but a little bitter, creamy and fatty and rich as butter. It melts in your mouth and coats every taste bud. It's like eating sex.
It's doubly hard to resist when your best friend in the whole wide world works in a chocolate factory ("I'm an Oompa-Loompa," she cheerfully says) and when Christmas time at work means all our suppliers plying us with wave after wave of cocoa-soaked treats as a ploy to keep us in their grip for the coming year. I'm not ashamed to admit, it works.
Like a lot of people, I'm trying to watch what I ingest, trying to be more mindful of my health and all that jazz, but the fermented, sweetened offing of the cacao plant is my trigger, the one thing I can't say no to.
I think I'll have a truffle now ;-)
I only know a few people who claim not to like chocolate, and I consider all of them suspect. My mother included. How can you not love it? It's sweet, but a little bitter, creamy and fatty and rich as butter. It melts in your mouth and coats every taste bud. It's like eating sex.
It's doubly hard to resist when your best friend in the whole wide world works in a chocolate factory ("I'm an Oompa-Loompa," she cheerfully says) and when Christmas time at work means all our suppliers plying us with wave after wave of cocoa-soaked treats as a ploy to keep us in their grip for the coming year. I'm not ashamed to admit, it works.
Like a lot of people, I'm trying to watch what I ingest, trying to be more mindful of my health and all that jazz, but the fermented, sweetened offing of the cacao plant is my trigger, the one thing I can't say no to.
I think I'll have a truffle now ;-)
Monday, January 14, 2008
Dance Fever
D'ya ever get a craving for something you normally find distasteful? I do. It's my fundmentally bi-polar nature I think, that or I'm just fickle. All day I've had an unmistakeable urge to hear...dance music.
I'm not a dancer, by any stretch of the imagination, and techno music usually give me a rash. I like the physicality of rock music, the sound of strings and muscle and wind, even compressed to death and distorted it sounds physical and organic, which I can respect. Techo music has sounds and beats, that's it. It's tough for me to find the talent involved, especially since it all seems so similar, like variations on the same theme (theme being car-alarm-set-to-pounding-fake-drums).
However urges like today hit me frequently, when my head bobs all by itself and I find myself dancing in place at work. In order to save my musical sanity, I've had to develop a dance playlist, and since I'm all about public service, I've decided to share my favorite 10 dance/techno songs, in no particular order-
1- "Impressive Instant" by Madonna- Not one of Ms. Ciccone's hits, but track 2 on "Music" is a bleeping, pulsing masterpiece, artifice as art.
2- "No Expectations" by I Am The World Trade Center- Techno with dry, indie-rock vocals, absolutely lovely.
3- "Ghettochip Malfuncton" by Beck- Actually a remix of "Hell Yes", but it is so vastly superior to the original, that it should have replaced it on future pressings of the "Guero" album. It's kinda sexy.
4- "Let Your Head Go" by Victoria Beckham- Yes, Posh Spice. What of it? It's ridiculously catchy and she's got the icy, breathy techno diva vocal tics down pat.
5- "Bizarre Love Triangle" by New Order- Ah, the boys (and girl) from Manchester. Really, any of their mid-80's singles would do, but this is my favorite.
6- "2nd Floor" by The Creatures- Siouxsie's drums/vocals side project took a decidedly techno turn on the "Anima Animus" album, and this is the best and most uptempo track.
7- "Master and Servant" by Depeche Mode- All my black-clad friends in junior high loved this S & M anthem, and it's still one of my faves when I'm in the mood for a trip down memory lane
8- "Sex Dwarf" by Soft Cell- Another creepy, sexy masterpiece.
9- "Teardrop" by Massive Attack- Ornate and slow, with beautiful vocals by Liz Fraser from Cocteau Twins, not really dancey, but sort of trip-hoppy.
10- "Roads" by Portishead- Totally gorgeous, bluesy voice, heavily echoed guitars and a slowed down dance beat. Totally glorious.
I'm not a dancer, by any stretch of the imagination, and techno music usually give me a rash. I like the physicality of rock music, the sound of strings and muscle and wind, even compressed to death and distorted it sounds physical and organic, which I can respect. Techo music has sounds and beats, that's it. It's tough for me to find the talent involved, especially since it all seems so similar, like variations on the same theme (theme being car-alarm-set-to-pounding-fake-drums).
However urges like today hit me frequently, when my head bobs all by itself and I find myself dancing in place at work. In order to save my musical sanity, I've had to develop a dance playlist, and since I'm all about public service, I've decided to share my favorite 10 dance/techno songs, in no particular order-
1- "Impressive Instant" by Madonna- Not one of Ms. Ciccone's hits, but track 2 on "Music" is a bleeping, pulsing masterpiece, artifice as art.
2- "No Expectations" by I Am The World Trade Center- Techno with dry, indie-rock vocals, absolutely lovely.
3- "Ghettochip Malfuncton" by Beck- Actually a remix of "Hell Yes", but it is so vastly superior to the original, that it should have replaced it on future pressings of the "Guero" album. It's kinda sexy.
4- "Let Your Head Go" by Victoria Beckham- Yes, Posh Spice. What of it? It's ridiculously catchy and she's got the icy, breathy techno diva vocal tics down pat.
5- "Bizarre Love Triangle" by New Order- Ah, the boys (and girl) from Manchester. Really, any of their mid-80's singles would do, but this is my favorite.
6- "2nd Floor" by The Creatures- Siouxsie's drums/vocals side project took a decidedly techno turn on the "Anima Animus" album, and this is the best and most uptempo track.
7- "Master and Servant" by Depeche Mode- All my black-clad friends in junior high loved this S & M anthem, and it's still one of my faves when I'm in the mood for a trip down memory lane
8- "Sex Dwarf" by Soft Cell- Another creepy, sexy masterpiece.
9- "Teardrop" by Massive Attack- Ornate and slow, with beautiful vocals by Liz Fraser from Cocteau Twins, not really dancey, but sort of trip-hoppy.
10- "Roads" by Portishead- Totally gorgeous, bluesy voice, heavily echoed guitars and a slowed down dance beat. Totally glorious.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Ideas
When I get pissed off, it's really hard for me to be objective. I think the mission of this, my Jesus year, is to find ways to look at situations and not project my anger on them. Doing that can be exhausting, as I learned today, but it worked, and by the end of the day, I was fine.
I think 2008 will be about change for me, maybe big changes that I've been putting aside out of fear. The books will be the beginning of that. Speaking of books, the short story collection has an official title now: Dark Entries. Here's the current status of the collection:
Completed stories:
Turnover
The Whole Price of Blood
Hatchet Job Blues
Stories in Process:
Hungry
Bites
Cola Wars
Blackbirds
possibly a Babette story
To get to 10, I'll have to come up with 2 more.
As for the novel, I'm having an awful bout of writer's block, which I'm hoping the stories will loosen up. I'm near the climax, and I just need to touch a few story points to get there.
I also dowloaded a free screenwriting program, so I'm going to try my hand at that, after I download a few and get a feel for the format. The story Bites lends itself to a script, so I think I will adapt it as my first effort.
In glorious news: disgraced, corrupt Congressman John Doolittle, a known ASSHOLE, is retiring (since he'll most likely be indicted soon), maybe paving the way for Placer county to send a (gasp) Democrat to Congress in 08! Go Charlie Brown!!
I think 2008 will be about change for me, maybe big changes that I've been putting aside out of fear. The books will be the beginning of that. Speaking of books, the short story collection has an official title now: Dark Entries. Here's the current status of the collection:
Completed stories:
Turnover
The Whole Price of Blood
Hatchet Job Blues
Stories in Process:
Hungry
Bites
Cola Wars
Blackbirds
possibly a Babette story
To get to 10, I'll have to come up with 2 more.
As for the novel, I'm having an awful bout of writer's block, which I'm hoping the stories will loosen up. I'm near the climax, and I just need to touch a few story points to get there.
I also dowloaded a free screenwriting program, so I'm going to try my hand at that, after I download a few and get a feel for the format. The story Bites lends itself to a script, so I think I will adapt it as my first effort.
In glorious news: disgraced, corrupt Congressman John Doolittle, a known ASSHOLE, is retiring (since he'll most likely be indicted soon), maybe paving the way for Placer county to send a (gasp) Democrat to Congress in 08! Go Charlie Brown!!
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Britney is crazy, discuss
So, I'll cop to it. I follow this whole Britney thing. It's interesting to me, not only in a celebrity trainwreck way, but in the aspect of "this is why we need universal healthcare and a better mental health system". I think everyone would agree that when someone displays the kind of manic, bizarre behavior Ms. Spears has been famous for, that person's loved ones should have some recourse to commit that person to treatment, even if it's just long enough for a professional to say "not crazy, just weird".
In the interest of my curiosity, I listened to Brit's latest opus, "Blackout", today and I came away with a few thoughts I'd like to share:
1- It's not bad- It's actually kind of interesting. If (and stay with me on this) she was Lou Reed, this would be her "Metal Machine Music". It's full of squawks and atonal vocals and layers of computerized sounds that, all told, are aggressively non-musical. Lay a few tracks of shredded guitars and you have the album Trent Reznor wish he made.
2- It's a cry for help- Sonically- The other impression I get from the layers and layers of sound is that it kind of sounds...crazy. Like the inside of a schizophrenic's head. Voices shift up and down unnaturally and overlap each other as non-musical noise competes in the background. Add that to the fact that, like most contemporary music, it's compressed within an inch of its life so all the sounds are mashed together without any dynamic tension.
3- It's a cry for help- Lyrically- The overwhelming theme on this record is Britney hates the press and loves the bars. But taken in another context, there could be some real depth here (stay with me...)
Gimme More- Cameras are flashing/while we're dirty dancing/they keep watching/they keep watching. Paranoid much, Brit?
Piece of Me- She repeats the title over and over until its less a threat than a desperate cry for attention.
Why Should I Be Sad- Should I get bad or sad/who knows. And we call that Bi-Polar Disorder.
In any case, "Blackout" is not the piece of hot garbage I expected it would be, though I would probably think much less of it were it not for the lens it provides into the mind of a sad, sick young woman who's breaking down before our eyes.
In the interest of my curiosity, I listened to Brit's latest opus, "Blackout", today and I came away with a few thoughts I'd like to share:
1- It's not bad- It's actually kind of interesting. If (and stay with me on this) she was Lou Reed, this would be her "Metal Machine Music". It's full of squawks and atonal vocals and layers of computerized sounds that, all told, are aggressively non-musical. Lay a few tracks of shredded guitars and you have the album Trent Reznor wish he made.
2- It's a cry for help- Sonically- The other impression I get from the layers and layers of sound is that it kind of sounds...crazy. Like the inside of a schizophrenic's head. Voices shift up and down unnaturally and overlap each other as non-musical noise competes in the background. Add that to the fact that, like most contemporary music, it's compressed within an inch of its life so all the sounds are mashed together without any dynamic tension.
3- It's a cry for help- Lyrically- The overwhelming theme on this record is Britney hates the press and loves the bars. But taken in another context, there could be some real depth here (stay with me...)
Gimme More- Cameras are flashing/while we're dirty dancing/they keep watching/they keep watching. Paranoid much, Brit?
Piece of Me- She repeats the title over and over until its less a threat than a desperate cry for attention.
Why Should I Be Sad- Should I get bad or sad/who knows. And we call that Bi-Polar Disorder.
In any case, "Blackout" is not the piece of hot garbage I expected it would be, though I would probably think much less of it were it not for the lens it provides into the mind of a sad, sick young woman who's breaking down before our eyes.
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