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Britney Spears goes topless

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The ultimate disgrace-- Spears flops out a tit before the camera.

After almost two long, grueling years contributing to Gimme Noise, of gagging on the new Eminem disc, of choking back vomit at the sight of Gwen Stefani's bare midriff, of contemplating suicide over the rampant proliferation of auto-tune, I'm going to do something I've never done, and swore I would never, ever do. I'm going to tell you a story about myself.

Nine years, 11 months, and 28 days ago, I was a snot-nosed high school senior, just barely passing muster at a public school that, to protect their enrollment, will remain nameless.

Nine years, 11 months and 28 days ago, I was counting down the hours to graduation when an idle conversation erupted among friends about Britney Spears. I remember the day-- it was a gloomy, drab overcast day, full of gray clouds that turned the afternoon sun into dishwater.

Nine years, 11 months and 28 days ago, I loudly professed that, within a decade, Britney Spears would willingly pose topless as a stripper, after all other methods of reviving her foundered career had failed.

I have spent every elapsing day since watching the internet, keeping a careful eye on the occasional faked topless pic of Spears, and biding my time.

And now, nine years, 11 months and 28 days after I made that fateful prediction, I can finally say it.

I FUCKING TOLD YOU.

This post is dedicated to those high school chums who scoffed and spat. This means you, Gorman, and you Hannahan, and especially you, Glendenning. Oh, you made such sport of me then. But I think we all know who's laughing now. And it ain't Spears, and it ain't Glendenning. Can you guess who it is? I'll give you a tiny hint to help you along. IT'S ME.

I'm no futurist, I'm a bad gambler, and I'm almost always wrong. Pick a topic, ask me about it, and chances are I hold the wrong opinion.

But give me your hands, dear readers, and gaze upon the hideous truth. Nine years, 11 months, and 28 days ago, I was, if only briefly, dazzlingly right.