Guess what? Britney Spears ran over some idiot photographer last night. I mean, can you god damn imagine? I can’t. I’m totally astonished. I’m writing down the actual date right now somewhere else, in pen and ink so I can remember for the future and stare at it in wonderment at will.
The thing about these photographers is (and look – I’m not completely vouching for Britney’s sanity in this because goodness knows she’s a maniac) they totally yearn for this kind of thing. They spend all their time racing after these celebrities screaming questions at them like, “How are the kids?” “How much to you weigh now?” “What is the square root of pi?” and crap, just to get a reaction and when they don’t get it I really don’t think I would put it past them to jump under a car wheel just to make create something to talk about. I mean, how much can photos of Britney simply driving actually be worth these days.
For paparazzi, being caught under a celebrity wheel is more or less the same level of validation for them as a fat, old movie star or stripper who doesn’t get any work being stalked by a potential rapist. I mean, sure it’s painful in the day to day but in general there’s a kind of involving melodrama and a kind of secret underlying feeling that they’re wanted which is all they ever wanted in the first place. [source]
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