I'm worried for Britney. I can't help to feel a sort of protective instinct for this wandering soul.
Oh, I know it's not hip not to despise Britney, not to laugh at her or at the other one called like a hotel. Well these girls are laughable, that's true. Although nobody laughs that much at men, the always forgiven.
Now, maybe the case with these pictures isn't even that bad. She shaves her own head because no one wants to do it. This might as well be a big fuck you to all the expectations of those who don't understand. It certainly took courage and impudence and some idea, precise of vague, that shaving one's own head ought to have a meaning. Perhaps a positive one.
Still the implacable force by which Britney's life is being judged and weighted and frowned upon and inquired is hard to witness. It is not voyeuristic anymore. It is another step forward into the uninterrupted ritual scapegoating that makes the energetic spirit of the world.
One feels so much he wants to save the victim: this probably is a feature, the feature of scapegoating.
The ritual weapon is the well tested continuous exposure of all the weaknesses, all the mistakes. The big-brotherly life that only concentrates on your faults and shames. Inviting you to make a better show of them.

People say, why caring for a person like this? She's loaded with cash, she has no fucking real problem.
Thing is, I look at the pictures and that's not what I see. In the pictures the shadow of her smile appears under eyes that cried, the calm attitude of one who doesn't expect to be helped or stopped anymore, pictures that she has no power or intention to escape, taken by people like you and me who find it natural to help the scapegoating.
You know, I read stories of the showbiz like everyone else, because tragedies and weaklings are all over the place there. And we need tragedy.
Britney, I don't know squat about this girl. But in general, I don't really care for money, that someone "has a lot of money": How not seeing that money is a burden? Look at her. Don't you see the burden? She's calling for help from under it (and fine, there's nothing I could do about it: but I'm not so lifeless or dumb not to hear her calling.)
I see a person, yet another one, by the piercing eyes and a lively character and the many trivial hopes and the evident solitude, crushed, or so it seems, by the world of show business and the wolfs of the headline news.
And it's not that you don't know that worse species of suffering are always going on, every day in every city of the world, breaking the backs of millions of strangers of which we don't know anything about.
But like few others Britney's story is everywhere, instead. One can't ignore it, not after seeing pictures like this one. On every newswire, in every tube. And I cannot avoid to read it or to see it.

25, lived five lives already, single mother, two kids that the fascist CPS will soon take away from her, large house, three cars, two pools, rage and displacement, misunderstandings, selfishness and generosity, never left alone a single moment by the blind eyes of the crushing machine, the blind eyes of the millions who innocently eat her alive watching. It is known the witnesses are always innocent.
It's not just for her, this laughable girl, this strong and not yet lost person. But is also for her.
To say it with Peter Handke, this is one of the cases where the witness of a humiliation, if still is a human being, feels exposed, and humiliated too.