Our commenter JoshSpeed has saved himself from the "maybe execute for slight fetishizingness tendencies" pile with: "You know, besides the layers of sweet, sweet irony after-the-fact that can be peeled and savoured by listening to her magnum opus, 'Lucky', repeatedly on one's .mp3 player, there isn't really much to like about Britney Spears any more, nor was there ever, really."

From our commenter Senor_Wences: "A female coworker at a previous job told me this story: She was out late and drunken at a post-work cocktail thingie, then began her long subway ride from Midtown to Brighton Beach or Sheepshead Bay or wherever the hell way down there she lived.

From our commenter Far-Far: "i got arrested at Patricia Fields on 8th street for shoplifting fake rubber nipples that were selling for SEVENTY DOLLARS. FAKE NIPPLES FOR SEVENTY BUCKS! i basically only wanted them because i was imagining taping one to a doorbell, or plopping a fake rubber nipple at the bottom of someone's milkshake, or... well, yeah. when the cops came, the angry drag queen behind the counter said, "Matching silver bracelets for you, Missy!" and that single line was the most embarrassing part of the whole ordeal. I hate that place and its fuscia shag carpeting and leopard print wallpaper and overpriced nipples. good riddance."

"After careful scrutiny, I'm pretty sure the "core" doesn't really exist. It's just some made-up bodypart people use to make money off the gullible. You know, like the g-spot, or the spleen, or the soul."—commenter GorgeousGeorge