"Pop Princess Battle Royale"

by Dare U Believe

Britney, Olivia, Christina 3 Individuals or 1 Formula

Music is my love, my passion, I can't play a note or sing on key, but I know good music and real talent when I hear it. So, knowing this, you can understand why I've been so disturbed by recent trends. Then to realize it was a reoccurring thing has made my head ache just thinking about it. Let me try and explain it to you.

It began this time with the quiet release of a single song by a pretty, petite, blonde teenager from Florida, supposedly, who had little actual vocal talent and weak lyrics. She made up for this, though, by singing about adult subjects and shaking her scantly clad, ample young breasts at every opportunity. Every heterosexual man in America took one look at the living incarnation of his Lolita fantasy, got a hard on, and instantly a star was born. You couldn't turn around without hearing her seductive lyrics or seeing her smiling her perfect smile as she inundated every radio station, television station and magazine available.

Suddenly every teen girl wanted to be her and every guy wanted to sleep with her. Everyone knew the cutesy name, Britney, and spoke it often, even those of us who couldn't stand her. Then the unthinkable, at least in my opinion, happen; a second single was released to the public. I watched as she shook her breasts again to a new song and my worst fears were given form, she was jiggling her way to being more than a one hit wonder.

The world sang her songs in unison, apparently completely oblivious to their meanings, and I gave up turning on the radio. Months crept slowly by, the second single began to fade from popularity and I began to grow happier with the knowledge that we were almost free from her presence, but then it happened.

A string of singles followed from both blondes and America reveled in the swaying of their breasts in the videos that accompanied each new one. The competition was heated and men everywhere loved it. The world seemed lost in a flood of bad vocals, peroxide and silicone as everywhere you looked one of them danced provocatively and tried to seduce the public's love.

Then, amazingly, a few months into the pop princess battle royal another one appeared on the scene. This one was different though, Jessica sang of love instead of sex, but her meaning was lost in her prerequisite blonde hair, pretty face and large breasts in tight clothing. She quickly joined the fray and at any given moment you couldn't turn on the radio without hearing one of them, it was out of control.

I was going crazy, drowning in a flood of cheesy pop music. Mandy, the fourth pretty, blonde, joined the fray and I almost gave up music altogether, but then I realized what was happening. We were pawns in a game. I should have realized it when I was younger. I should have watched the cycles better, but like the rest of the world I was blind. But not anymore! Now it's time to open your eyes.

Annette - The Beginning

As near as I can tell it began in the late fifties with the introduction of Annette to the world. She was young, she was pretty and she was stacked. She dominated the world of music, television and movies for years by wearing tiny bikini tops and tight sweaters with her name emblazoned on them. Americans, men especially, just couldn't get enough of her and they weren't supposed to, she was engineered to be irresistible.

Confused? Let me explain. I firmly believe that there is an island in the pacific where the wealthy heads of the record and television companies have created an amazing laboratory full of the smartest minds on the planet. These guys slave away day and night, attempting to create the next big thing using advanced cloning techniques.

In the 70s and early 80s they unleashed Olivia on us, claiming she was an Australian import, but they couldn't cover the signs that she was one of theirs. She was everywhere instantly with her perfect smile and perfect chest. She was the first blonde; reflecting the trend of that time period for sun tanned bodies and sun bleached hair.

Olivia came after the sexual revolution of the 60s and found herself free to take the seduction further. She wore body suits, leotards and even made movies playing both good girls and bad to cross the tastes border and win us all. She was naughty, yet nice and managed to hold us under her control for years.

The 80s saw two clones unleashed on us, within the span of months, to test our changing tastes. Tiffany bounded onto the scene first. She was nothing like the previous clones and we noticed. Her hair was red, her face cute, but not perfect, her skin was pale and her breasts were small. She was engineered to succeed and did so, but only managed to win the following of the teenage girl crowd, while American men found her dull and of little interest so she faded quickly.

Debbie replaced her and showed the scientists that the tan, blonde and pretty formula was still the best. Debbie was perfect, big breasted and under aged. She enjoyed singing in tight t-shirts and torn blue jeans giving her the mixed image of good and bad.

She sang her suggestive songs through the early 90s until she reached legal age and everyone lost interests. Unlike the earlier clones, who had long careers even after their teens, Debbie showed the scientists that younger was better in the modern world. This seems logical since everything was starting to focus on being younger. Hell, models were fourteen playing thirty on every magazine cover.

So this brings us to the late 90s and modern times, where apparently the announcement that cloning actually exists has frightened our scientist. Who, figuring that soon they would be swamped with competition that would put them out of business, have decided to make all the quick cash they could by unleashing a millenniums worth of clones on us all at once. Never before in the history of man has so much silicone, peroxide and flat notes dominated our music.

Please, join with me now and together we can bring these bastards down before they release there's nothing to worry about and the next one is released. Stand up now and Reject the perfect blonde smiles and perky-breasted advances of the clones. Throw away those whiney albums and scantly clad posters.

We must band together because if these are our generation of clones, can you imagine the next? Fourteen-year-old bleached out blondes with no musical talent and chests so big they can't stand up. Dressed in nothing but g-strings and smiles so perfect they'll never be able to frown. This is not a pretty picture. So please, for the love of whatever god you follow listen to me. The next time you're confronted by one of them turn away quickly, before their jiggling breasts hypnotize you suck out your brain. Walk away from that billboard, throw away that magazine, channel that Television and definitely find something else to listen to on that radio!