Lynne Spears’ Parenting Book, Chapters 1-5
I cannot stress how genuine I am in what I’m about to say. Lynne Spears — Britney Spears’ mother — writing a parenting book will do more for parenting than Dr. Spock, flame retardant clothing, and the VCR combined. Lynne Spears writing a book on parenting could single-handedly end the profession of stripping.
Imagine if the biggest loser in the world wrote a book on how to get laid.
Imagine if Michael Jackson wrote a book on brand management.
Imagine if Hilary Clinton wrote a book on how to keep your husband from finger-banging fat pigs behind your back.
Imagine if one of the worst parents in the world wrote a book.
If you have a daughter and you don’t want her to grow into a greasy, pregnant whore, read Lynne Spears’ book and do the opposite of everything it says.
Through some hillbilly amalgamation of and hooch and ether fumes, Lynn Spears has managed to raise some of the worst female role models in history. She has plumbed the depths of poor parenting in a most spectacular way and come up swinging. I, for one, can’t think of a better arena for her personal insights into the world of knocked-up catastrophes than a parenting advice book. In fact, I can see the chapters now.
Chapter 1: Mountain Dew. It’s Got What Babies Need.
Don’t feed your baby Mountain Dew instead of breast milk.
It may come as a surprise to women, but breasts aren’t only meant to score free drinks at T.G.I. Friday’s. Breasts are also meant to nourish young. Hillbilly mothers feed their babies Mountain Dew instead of breast milk for the same reason they don’t put their kids in car seats. They don’t fucking care. Trailer trash pop divas can pump out kids just as fast as their slovenly sisters. You can take the womb out of the trailer park, but you can’t take the trailer park out of the womb.
What else but maternal apathy could explain letting your daughter miss a bunch of fucking court dates and mandatory drug tests. Chapter one in Lynne Spears’ new parenting book must include such gems as, “Fuck court. It’s not like they can take your kids”, “Why dogs are better than babies” and, “Car seats? Who needs em!”
Chapter 2: Finding the Right Baby Daddy
Under no circumstances should you find a “baby daddy”.
Finding a good “baby daddy” is like finding a 1960 tobacco sunburst Les Paul for under 300 dollars. I have only seen it once and it was broke as shit.
The only problem a man isn’t the answer to is, “What the fuck am I supposed to do with this baby?” Fuck you. Give it to the state. At least orphans have less chance of going to prison than kids raised by divorced mothers.
Chapter 3: Be yourself.
Do not be yourself. Especially if you’re a woman.
Being yourself as a woman means sleazy, amateur porn videos, and violent outbursts and screaming tantrums that take place somewhere WC Fields used to vomit. That’s desecration of a penistorical manument.
Chapter 4: The Difference Between Sexy and Slutty.
The difference between sexy and slutty is the difference between a mini-van and a Lexus. They both get you where you want to go, one just costs a lot more and you can’t fit as many guys inside of it.
If you don’t want your daughter to have the reputation of World’s Second Biggest Whore, or your other daughter to get knocked up before she can vote, make sure you especially do not follow the advice in this chapter. If Lynn Spears gave her kids a stuffed Grover when they were small, hang a stuffed Grover from a tree in your front yard and light it on fire.
Chapter 5: Pregnancy. It Can Happen to Anyone!
No it can’t. It can only happen to dumb-fucks who don’t know how to look in their date’s purse to make sure she’s taking birth control before they fuck her without a condom. Condoms are stupid. Evel Knievel didn’t use them and neither do I.
One more baby fixes everything.
Any book on mothering written by the mother of a skinhead deemed unfit by the government to babysit her own children despite millions of dollars in royalties, merchandising, and shit, would be a compendium so rich in parenting anti-advice, it should be distributed for free by hospitals. Polio vaccines may save lives, but 26 years of fuck-ups in 200 pages saves you from seeing your daughter on a pole.
Don’t ask a man which he would rather have if you don’t want to hear a scary answer.
Unfortunately, Lynne Spears’ parenting book was swallowed by the gravity of its own hubris. Due to the illegitimate, teenage pregnancy of her second, forgettable daughter, the book was postponed indefinitely.
Comment below if you would like to see this book rushed into production.
