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Ironically, it may be Britney's family who succeeds in retaining control of her now, in collaboration with doctors who are advising that she remain in a hospital setting as long as legally possible.Britney wasn't allowed to see her kids in January, and it is unclear when she will get them back.She cuts through the crowd swiftly, the way she used to when 20,000 adoring fans mobbed her outside a concert, with her paparazzi boyfriend, Adnan Ghalib, trailing behind.

She's the perfect celebrity for America in decline: Like President Bush, she just doesn't give a fuck, but at least we won't have to clean up after her mess for the rest of our lives.

If Britney was really who we believed her to be — a puppet, a grinning blonde without a cool thought in her head, a teasing coquette clueless to her own sexual power — none of this would have happened. But she is intelligent enough to understand what the world wanted of her: that she was created as a virgin to be deflowered before us, for our amusement and titillation.

She has no stylist, image consultant, crisis-control manager or driver.

She has pushed away her family: her brother and father ("It is sad that all the men in my life do not know how to accept a real woman's love," she explained); her sister Jamie Lynn, whom she speaks to on the phone and sees rarely; and, most important, her preening, difficult mother, Lynne, whom Britney considers poisonous.

Under the terms of their prenup, Kevin Federline was due only $1 million of Britney's estimated $30 million fortune, and his sole route to future riches is custodial support, although his intentions are widely considered to be more honorable.

Federline currently receives ,000 a month, and his hope is to keep at least part-time custody — a goal his lawyer, diminutive powerhouse Mark Vincent Kaplan, is well on his way to achieving in the court of Commissioner Scott Gordon.

She pulls herself up, mustering the strength to tap Britney's shoulder. She whirls around and stares the girl deep in the eyes, her lips almost vibrating with anger. She is an inbred swamp thing who chain-smokes, doesn't do her nails, tells reporters to "eat it, snort it, lick it, fuck it" and screams at people who want pictures for their little sisters.

"Um, I'm from the South too," she mumbles, "and I was wondering if I could get a picture with you for my little sister."Britney turns to Ghalib and grabs his arm. "I don't know who you think I am, bitch," she snarls, "but I'm not that person."Photos: The Greatest Momagers and Dadagers in the Business f there is one thing that has become clear in the past year of Britney's collapse — the most public downfall of any star in history — it's that she doesn't want anything to do with the person the world thought she was. She is not someone who can live by the most basic social rules — she is someone who, when she has had her one- and two-year-old sons taken completely out of her care, with zero visitation rights, appeared at Los Angeles' Superior Court to convince the judge to give her kids back, but then decided not to go inside, and she's someone who did this twice.

"Her legs are actually really skinny," an adolescent whispers into her Sidekick, as Britney beelines for the Betsey Johnson boutique, pseudo-punk designer of evening dresses and splashy heels worn to suburban high school proms.

In person, Britney is shockingly beautiful — clear skin, ruby lips, a perfectly proportioned twenty-six-year-old porcelain doll with a nasty weave.

Famous for two saccharine books about her fabulous relationship with Britney, Lynne is now desperately trying to help her family, but her attempts have fallen flat: She was the force behind selling Jamie Lynn's pregnancy photos to magazine for

Federline currently receives $20,000 a month, and his hope is to keep at least part-time custody — a goal his lawyer, diminutive powerhouse Mark Vincent Kaplan, is well on his way to achieving in the court of Commissioner Scott Gordon.She pulls herself up, mustering the strength to tap Britney's shoulder. She whirls around and stares the girl deep in the eyes, her lips almost vibrating with anger. She is an inbred swamp thing who chain-smokes, doesn't do her nails, tells reporters to "eat it, snort it, lick it, fuck it" and screams at people who want pictures for their little sisters."Um, I'm from the South too," she mumbles, "and I was wondering if I could get a picture with you for my little sister."Britney turns to Ghalib and grabs his arm. "I don't know who you think I am, bitch," she snarls, "but I'm not that person."Photos: The Greatest Momagers and Dadagers in the Business f there is one thing that has become clear in the past year of Britney's collapse — the most public downfall of any star in history — it's that she doesn't want anything to do with the person the world thought she was. She is not someone who can live by the most basic social rules — she is someone who, when she has had her one- and two-year-old sons taken completely out of her care, with zero visitation rights, appeared at Los Angeles' Superior Court to convince the judge to give her kids back, but then decided not to go inside, and she's someone who did this twice."Her legs are actually really skinny," an adolescent whispers into her Sidekick, as Britney beelines for the Betsey Johnson boutique, pseudo-punk designer of evening dresses and splashy heels worn to suburban high school proms.In person, Britney is shockingly beautiful — clear skin, ruby lips, a perfectly proportioned twenty-six-year-old porcelain doll with a nasty weave.Famous for two saccharine books about her fabulous relationship with Britney, Lynne is now desperately trying to help her family, but her attempts have fallen flat: She was the force behind selling Jamie Lynn's pregnancy photos to magazine for $1 million and encouraged Dr.

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Federline currently receives $20,000 a month, and his hope is to keep at least part-time custody — a goal his lawyer, diminutive powerhouse Mark Vincent Kaplan, is well on his way to achieving in the court of Commissioner Scott Gordon.

She pulls herself up, mustering the strength to tap Britney's shoulder. She whirls around and stares the girl deep in the eyes, her lips almost vibrating with anger. She is an inbred swamp thing who chain-smokes, doesn't do her nails, tells reporters to "eat it, snort it, lick it, fuck it" and screams at people who want pictures for their little sisters.

"Um, I'm from the South too," she mumbles, "and I was wondering if I could get a picture with you for my little sister."Britney turns to Ghalib and grabs his arm. "I don't know who you think I am, bitch," she snarls, "but I'm not that person."Photos: The Greatest Momagers and Dadagers in the Business f there is one thing that has become clear in the past year of Britney's collapse — the most public downfall of any star in history — it's that she doesn't want anything to do with the person the world thought she was. She is not someone who can live by the most basic social rules — she is someone who, when she has had her one- and two-year-old sons taken completely out of her care, with zero visitation rights, appeared at Los Angeles' Superior Court to convince the judge to give her kids back, but then decided not to go inside, and she's someone who did this twice.

"Her legs are actually really skinny," an adolescent whispers into her Sidekick, as Britney beelines for the Betsey Johnson boutique, pseudo-punk designer of evening dresses and splashy heels worn to suburban high school proms.

In person, Britney is shockingly beautiful — clear skin, ruby lips, a perfectly proportioned twenty-six-year-old porcelain doll with a nasty weave.

Famous for two saccharine books about her fabulous relationship with Britney, Lynne is now desperately trying to help her family, but her attempts have fallen flat: She was the force behind selling Jamie Lynn's pregnancy photos to magazine for $1 million and encouraged Dr.

||

Federline currently receives $20,000 a month, and his hope is to keep at least part-time custody — a goal his lawyer, diminutive powerhouse Mark Vincent Kaplan, is well on his way to achieving in the court of Commissioner Scott Gordon.

She pulls herself up, mustering the strength to tap Britney's shoulder. She whirls around and stares the girl deep in the eyes, her lips almost vibrating with anger. She is an inbred swamp thing who chain-smokes, doesn't do her nails, tells reporters to "eat it, snort it, lick it, fuck it" and screams at people who want pictures for their little sisters.

"Um, I'm from the South too," she mumbles, "and I was wondering if I could get a picture with you for my little sister."Britney turns to Ghalib and grabs his arm. "I don't know who you think I am, bitch," she snarls, "but I'm not that person."Photos: The Greatest Momagers and Dadagers in the Business f there is one thing that has become clear in the past year of Britney's collapse — the most public downfall of any star in history — it's that she doesn't want anything to do with the person the world thought she was. She is not someone who can live by the most basic social rules — she is someone who, when she has had her one- and two-year-old sons taken completely out of her care, with zero visitation rights, appeared at Los Angeles' Superior Court to convince the judge to give her kids back, but then decided not to go inside, and she's someone who did this twice.

"Her legs are actually really skinny," an adolescent whispers into her Sidekick, as Britney beelines for the Betsey Johnson boutique, pseudo-punk designer of evening dresses and splashy heels worn to suburban high school proms.

million and encouraged Dr.

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