Lately it seems that you simply cannot avoid Britney Spears. She’s on the cover of every trashy magazine at the grocery store checkout, her latest “endeavors” are constantly being discussed on every radio talk show- VH1 is even airing tell-all specials such as “Britney’s Secret Childhood.” However, the other day I saw the not-so-sane pop star in a place I hadn’t expected: my own doorstep.

This is not to say that there was a half-naked, sobbing ghost of a former phenomenon on my front porch. No, I was greeted instead by a beautiful, youthful face in black and white, sitting expectantly on my door mat. I picked my Rolling Stone up off the cement and went back inside, where I found myself unable to resist the urge to read the cover article. When I put down the magazine quite a while later, I looked again at that innocent face on the cover and felt genuinely annoyed at whoever decided to put it there. In order to properly communicate to you why I felt this way, let me give you a basic summary of the article:

The author, Vanessa Grigoriadis, begins by stating: “I spent six weeks chasing after Britney Spears, witnessing some of her crazy episodes and encountering some bizarre people along the way. Basically, this girl is no longer America’s little sweetheart.” Then the article takes a biographical twist, ie., “Britney was born in a little town to an alcoholic father and a pushy stage mom.” After multiple pages of childhood anecdotes and the tale of Britney’s ascent to teenage stardom, the article changes into a report of the star’s descent into apparent madness (shockerr). Accompanying the text about her early years is an arrangement of photos of innocent Britney ranging from the 1980’s through 2003; on the opposite page lies a collage of disastrous photos from 2005 on, including one the infamous “crotch shots” from Britney’s post-Kfed partying days. After discussing recent highly important events in the life of Ms. Spears, such as her halfhearted performance of the VMA’s, the author switches back to current times and describes Britney’s playful afternoons spent engaging in high-speed pursuits with the paparazzi. Grigoriadis offers a few more descriptions of Britney’s loss of sanity, then offers an oddly philosophical conclusion. She more or less says, “We miss you, Britney. Come back and be America’s good little girl again. Although, I guess it’s kind of our fault that you turned out so messed up in the first place, isn’t it? …Whoops.”

Huh? Are you criticizing Spears for being a crazy bitch or offering an apology for having made her that way? Why would you bother to tell her heartbreaking life story if you’re going to exploit how she’s gone off the deep end? The self-contradicting nature of the article seems confusing until you look at the statistic offered by the author herself: 20% of tabloid revenue last year was a result of none other than Britney herself. That being the case, how much could be gained by publishing an in-depth article on the infamous drama queen in a widely circulated and highly respect music magazine? It’s so very simple: paste a pure, pretty close-up of the girl on the cover, name the article something pity-garnering like “Inside an American Tragedy,” but then include some nasty pictures and stories (like the time Britney drove with her baby on her lap, or the time she let her dog poop on a multi-thousand dollar dress at a photo shoot) so people don’t feel too bad for this product of our society. This way, you appeal to every view point- those who feel sympathy for Britney, and those who think she’s an out-of-control train wreck but just can’t stop watching her burn. The result? You rake in a substantial amount of cash, particularly from people who wouldn’t normally spend their money on tabloids but who don’t see any harm in purchasing something from the company that employs the likes of Peter Travers and Annie Leibovitz. The simplicity of it all is practically genius.

The only problem is one question left to linger in the reader’s mind: Where does this leave Rolling Stone? It’s been a hell of a long time since someone like Jimi Henrix, John Lennon or Kurt Cobain was on the cover of something other than a memorial issue. One can’t help but wonder if our taste for gossip is simultaneously fueling the rise of tabloids and the decay of any purity left in the music industry.

The funny thing is, as I sit here writing this I have to acknowledge that I’m part of the problem. For starters, I am in fact a subscriber of Rolling Stone (not to mention, I practically wet myself when my ex boyfriend and I met one of their reporters at an Angels and Airwaves concert) and I’ll freqently flip past an article on Clapton to find out exactly what Pete Wentz’s 28th birthday party was like (I know, I hate myself…). But maybe, like Britney, I’m just the product of modern-day cultural values in the music industry. To quote Philip Seymour Hoffman in Almost Famous, “You’re coming along at a dangerous time for rock ‘n roll.”