The term “star” isn’t one whose fixed meaning has become diluted past functionality by proliferation and misuse. It’s not like “indie,” say, or “emo.” It never had a fixed meaning, or at least not one that made much sense. The term is necessarily empty inasmuch as it refers to a class of people whose notoriety outpaces any logical boundary. Stars, with a few exceptions, don’t do unique things. Theoretically, stars attain their status by doing pedestrian things extraordinarily well, but in an epoch of heiresses and webcams I think we can all agree that this formula is almost as useless as the designation it purports to explain.

Hence, it’ hardly innovative to remark at this point that artistic value is no barometer of popularity (some have suggested that the two are mutually exclusive), but then again it’s hard to say something insightful, anything insightful, about Britney Spears. There is no track to review here, empty as it is, but there’s also no artist to review. This is not a review; it is a refutation. So here’s another unremarkable observation: this girl is fit for a straightjacket. This obviously has nothing to do with “her” music. She’s not Daniel Johnston crazy (it fuels nothing). She’s not even Michael Jackson crazy (it’s not as fun or pedophiliac). She’s everyday trailer-park-meth-addict-squirrel-in-the-shithouse crazy. She’s Intervention crazy. Which is kind of interesting, and perfectly emblematic of her career arc overall.

The video for “Gimme More” features current Brit dancing alone on a pole in a shadowy corner of what looks like a modern-day equivalent to an absinthe den. All the while Brit circa 2005 observes from the bar with her friends, laughing and exchanging incredulous looks. One wonders who exactly had the balls to pitch her this video idea and how the subject was broached. “Well. We’ve always had success just embracing your image...and, uh...right now that image is emotionally-crippled-exhibitionist-drug-fueled-zombie-slut.” Cue awkward silence.

But while Britney’s newest synth-soaked club jam may be the latest and most probative evidence of her insanity, it is hardly the first. Despite the fact that she wrote none of these songs, let’s observe how closely they mirror the multifaceted meltdown that has bubbled to the surface of tabloids and, well, other tabloids.

“Hit Me Baby One More Time” (1999) displayed some pretty acute male dependency issues, as does “I’m a Slave 4 U” (2001) and “Toxic” (2003). “Oops. . . I Did It Again” (2001) was either nymphomania or borderline personality disorder, maybe both. And just-released “Gimme More” is the latest and most intense of her exploratory series on the paranoid delusion whose other installments include a surly “My Prerogative” (2004) and razor’s-edge-of-lunacy “Do Something” which featured the telling line: “I see you looking at me / Like I’m some kind of freak.” This latest track even throws in bonus overtones to her substance abuse problem.

Now that, readers, is what you call a self-fulfilling prophecy.

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