You Make The Call

So I'm reminded tonight of these old commercials they used to run during football games in the 1980s. The premise would be that they would show some kind of interesting play from an earlier game, one with a disputed call, and then give the audience a couple of options on how the play should have been called by the referees on the field. Then they would break for another 10 seconds or so and hock some product (it may have been Budweiser, but I honestly can't remember) then come back and tell you what happened. All in good fun. Sometimes these plays had two possible outcomes and you had to chose the crazier, zanier one, which was usually how the play was called. To wit, I provide you with two "real-life" (read: Hollywood) situations from over the weekend, and try to answer which wacky scenario takes the cake.

1) Britney Spears' latest attempt at rehab which abruptly ended with her screaming "I am the anti-christ!" and feigning a try at suicide before publicly begging the Distinguished Gentleman, Mr. Federline, to re-marry her and make him a baby daddy once again.

2) On the subject of satanic spawn, Ann Coulter opened her mouth again this weekend, when, over the deafening cries of the misbegotten which follow that wench around whenever she tries to speak, she managed, somehow, to drop the F-Bomb on John Edwards at some Conservative event.

That's right, America, tell us who the biggest loser is. YOU Make the Call!

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(This is the part where I openly thank City Slicker Cafe for posting my musings about the Shrimp and Bacon Pizza in their fine establishment. Kudos to you for singling me out and spreading the word about this blog. I'll be in to collect my free lifetime supply of pizzas soon...)

And now, America decides as YOU Make the Call.

The answer of course, is that we are all sad and disgusting people for lending any sort of credence to this claptrap. Both Britney Spears and Ann Coulter should just go away. We should stop listening to them, or caring about them. And thus, like all shebeast celebutantes of Hollywood and Washington, they will soon fade into our collective memories.

At least, we can hope...