The first person they sold my generation was Britney Spears wearing a tiny school girl uniform that she then danced around in, flashing pubescent boys teasing-but-never-succeeding images of possible nirvana. I think she has been 18 for all of twelve seconds at the time this happened (I was 16, so I’d reached that sweet spot in life where anyone from 15+ was available to me – I was an awkward and weird 16 Year Old, so it didn’t matter, but legally, the world was my sexual oyster.)
Anyways, Britney grew up to need her father to run her life until she was 40, when she was finally granted her freedom by a Los Angeles judge, releasing her from the bonds of a conservatorship, all in response to a loud internet campaign (the law frequently listens to the unwashed masses). She promptly posted a bunch of naked pictures of herself on the internet and got engaged to some random dude who she probably met when he was over at her house fixing the dryer. Her first husband – the one she was married to for about 15 hours, 15 years ago – tried to crash the wedding and got arrested.
She’s my generation’s Sexual Icon.
