Okay, I know most of my readers aren’t gonna care at all about this, but as an inveterate watcher of pop culture disasters, something has to be said about the performance of Kevin Federline on the Teen Choice awards (yes, I actually wrote myself a note to turn it on for the last 10 minutes – even interrupting a poker game – so I wouldn’t miss this trainwreck as it happened). Anyone who really watches pop culture knew the moment that Britney Spears married Federline that this was going to be a long series of disasters with an inevitable bad ending. He’s Tom Arnold 2.0, a talentless hack feeding off the money and fame (notice I didn’t say talent) of his wife.
At the wedding, they should have been pronounced host and parasite rather than husband and wife. And like Roseanne, who once proclaimed that she wanted to direct Tom in a western because “he has what John Wayne had” (sadly, she wasn’t talking about cancer), Britney is convinced – for now – that Kevin is a major talent just waiting for the world to discover him, with her help. If Sunday night’s breathtakingly bad performance (if you haven’t seen it, click here) doesn’t change her mind, nothing will.
This performance had it all – bad lip synching by the backup performers, a rapper with absolutely no sense of rhythm who has achieved exactly nothing telling us “don’t hate cuz I’m a superstar”, bragging about the lambourghini (that his wife bought him) and declaring “I take care of my own, that’s my family” (yeah, Kev, how much money did you put in the joint checking account recently?), a break dancer (only 20 years after break dancing became passe`) and a black DJ who just had his membership in the hip hop community revoked permanently for daring to take part in this travesty (seriously, if that guy runs into Dr. Dre any time soon, he’s gonna get his ass kicked).
I kid you not, at one point he actually raises his hand in a fist and yells IRIE! to the crowd; Bob Marley just rolled over in his grave. This guy is about as Jamaican as Truman Capote, for crying out loud. It was just another example of a lameass white guy trying desperately to adopt the trappings of black culture and falling on his face with a resounding thud. It reminded me of Jamie Kennedy’s performance in Malibu’s Most Wanted, but at least that performance was intended to be a parody. It was as painful as watching Dan Aykroyd in his 50s pulling out the harmonica and croaking out lame versions of blues songs, it just makes you say, “Please…for God’s sake, have some dignity. Just stop.”
And just to bring it all full circle, I give you the reaction of one of the Sports Guy’s readers to the performance:
After watching the train wreck of a performance from K-Fed at the Teen Choice Awards, I started to think … is Britney Spears the Mike Tyson of the pop world? Think about it, she got on top of her game at a really young age, blew by the competition and seemed to have peaked at around 21. Then, she breaks up with Timberlake (which could be Cus D’Amato dying). Then finds K-Fed (who is a mix of Don King, the rape charge, and Buster Douglas all in one). So what’s next for my former dream girl?
–Dan Soder, Tucson, Ariz.
I find it equal parts amusing and sad that we’re really only about 10 minutes into K-Fed’s 15 minutes of fame, but I think we all know how this one ends. If life came with a remote control, we could just hit the fast forward button and go right to the part where she throws him out, he writes a tell-all book and fades into anonymity. Or we could fast forward even further, to the point where he’s found dead of an overdose in a shabby motel in West Hollywood (or a trailer park in Tuscaloosa, I can’t decide which is more likely), surrounded by Filipino hookers and possibly Cato Kaelin.