This is an excerpt from a nonsense novel I’m writing, “I’m With Britney, A Hillary Clinton Memoir, Ghostwritten by Judah Martin”
She’s So Lucky: Inside the Inauguration of the Century
Some have said that I was jealous as I stood in the inauguration crowd. Some have suggested that the frightening, lifeless grins and limp handshakes I offered that day were merely half-hearted attempts to mask some deep, unexpressed rage. After all, it was my third time running for the presidency and my third time losing. Each loss had been unexpected, politically damaging and, of course, painful. Writers, politicians, network talking heads and a bunch of people on Facebook continue to speculate about how I- a former first lady, senator, secretary of state and three-time presidential candidate- continue losing to people less qualified and less experienced than I am. I know this, of course, because I have googled that exact question every day for the last 13 years. So far, nothing.
But I was not jealous on that unseasonably warm day in January 2021 (climate change maybe?). I stood in the crowd not as a former first lady, not as a former secretary of state, not as the most qualified Democrat to run for the White House in modern history, but as an American citizen. I stood there because I felt it was my duty as a life-long public servant and as a supporter of democracy. Oh yeah, and I had just been sworn in as vice president.
Now, many people have asked me if I truly feel that Britney Spears is qualified to be the president but, since everyone knows that I probably lost my ability to definitively answer yes or no questions at some point in the early 90’s, I simply do my best to reassure people that being qualified to hold the highest office in our nation just, like, isn’t really that much of a thing anymore. Besides, this inauguration was every bit of the historic event that Barack Obama’s was in 2009. I truly felt proud of the transformation Britney had made from a talented but troubled young girl with a heavy southern accent to a confident, mature woman with not as much of an accent. (I mean, how does a thick southern accent just disappear like that? So weird.) Anyway, after meeting Britney I was just as eager as the most avid of Godney stans from the darkest depths of BreatheHeavy Exhale to see how her administration would unfold. I still remember how brilliantly President Britney’s hair extensions glistened in the afternoon sunlight as she raised her right hand to take the oath of office.
“I, Britney Jean Spears, do solemnly swear,…” she mouthed, her lips moving only slightly out of sync with the pre-recorded oath. “To uphold and protect the constitution, ya’ll.”
Luckily, after that Trump inauguration debacle four years earlier, I had the foresight this time to make Bill wait outside in the car (I allowed him to keep one window rolled down, of course. I’m not a monster.) This time I was able to listen intently to the President’s speech without the distraction of having to constantly swat him over the head with a rolled-up newspaper to keep him from openly salivating at the sight of her breasts, which were presently heaving out of the designer pantsuit I allowed her to borrow for the occasion. Britney, who is still racking her brain to this day trying to figure out which 1980’s pop star I must be, is surprisingly fond of my fashion sense. I only wish I could talk her into wearing a more sensible hairdo.We pick our battles, I suppose.
The rest of the inauguration events commenced brilliantly- nothing like her 2007 VMA’s debacle. Instead of umbrella-wielding, shaved head Britney we were finally seeing yellow snake in a rain forest Britney again. No, I mean really. Her inaugural address was literally just them playing footage of when she did the snake thing. No speech at all.
Needless to say, the crowd went wild. Afterwards, much of the media would spend the next week analyzing the 2001 performance for clues about President Britney’s vision for the country. Was the rain forest theme perhaps a message about her agenda to tighten the lax environmental regulations of the Trump administration? Don Lemon sure thought so. Anyway, Britney felt inclined to offer a few words after the clip of her performance ended.
“Oh my god, ya’ll!” she said into the mic with a surprising level of real emotion that probably no one had seen from her since In the Zone. “This is so cool. I just wanna thank Jesus and my producers and, like, all those old dudes in the funny wigs for starting America and i wanna thank my sons, Jayden and Preston from Instagram, and I guess K-Fed by extension. Oh, and all my fans out there who are still helping me live my dream, which I guess was to be president. This is such an honor, ya’ll, it’s really cool. ”
With that, she strutted back to her place away from the podium next to the First Boy Toy, Justin Bieber, who offered his usual, squinty James Dean grimace to the cameras. I don’t think that he ever found his contact lenses during President Britney’s entire first term. But who had time to look for them? After four years of President Trump the country was in a mess like we had never seen before: the economy was near collapse, our former allies had begun to turn on us and there were still Cheeto stains all over the White House bath tub. If we were going to clean up the mess our country was in (spoiler alert: we did) then we would have to seriously buckle down and make some Hard Choices (that’s my other book) about how to undo the damage inflicted by the previous administration.
But that would have to wait until after inauguration, of course. It was Britney’s day to bask in all of the festive inaugural traditions and I wasn’t about to ruin it for her by reminding her of the hardships ahead. Shiiiiddd, I was trying to get fucked up that night, too.
Later in the day, after accompanying Britney to the President’s Room to submit her cabinet nominations (actually my nominations tho) and to a subsequent luncheon, I ran into her again as she and the first boy toy were being escorted to their limousine.
“Hey Hillary!” Britney was exuberant, running up to me and tossing both arms around my neck, nearly scorching my hair with the lit cigarette dangling between her fingers.
“Britney” I gasped, trying to keep my composure despite the uneasiness I felt. “I’m like 100 now, I have to keep my health, please don’t smoke around me!”
She looked saddened by my admonition.
“I’m sorry,” she said. But then a light seemed to flicker in her eyes and suddenly she was bursting with excitement again. I have come to admire Britney’s enduring spirit, she reminds me not to let life’s difficulties crush me, either.
“I eat really healthy now though!” she bragged, her jaw seeming to move at 60 mph as she chomped away at what I can only imagine is the same stick of bubble gum she’s been chewing since the Mickey Mouse Club. “They don’t let me eat cheetos anymore because my managers said if I get fat again they’ll kill me this time so I just drink frappuccinos and that’s it!”
“Oh my god,” I said with a shudder. No woman should ever have to endure the pressures she has endured to always look perfect. I had felt those pressures too at her age, back when my speeches and advocacy as first lady were overshadowed in the media by my stupid haircuts. (It was the 90’s, what was I supposed to do?) I placed a sympathetic hand on President Britney’s shoulder and tried to assure her that I understood.
“You’re so nice,” Britney said. “Do you think I’ll be as healthy as you if I quit smoking, Vice President?”
“Hmm, vice president,” I said, smiling as I realized how much President Britney seemed to admire me. “Actually, healthy lungs are for losers. You should really be smoking way more to deal with the stress of running the country.”
“Really,” asked a wide-eyed Britney. “Dang, that’s crazy! Is it really that stressful being president?”
“Oh yes,” I assured her. I tried to sound sympathetic, remembering my own struggle to help Bill adjust to the unforeseen conflicts we endured in the White House. “Are those Lights? I’ll see if I can find you some stronger cigarettes.”
“Oh, thanks,” she said crushing the rest of her cigarette under her Louis Vuitton pump. “I guess we better get going to the inaugural ball. Are ya’ll gonna ride with me and Justin in the limo? Where’s Bill?”
“Oh shit….” I said, remembering that I had taken the helicopter with Britney after her address that morning instead of driving. That meant that Bill was still sitting in the car waiting for me to come out.
“Um, so, little detour,” I instructed the limo driver after I had climbed into the back with Justin and Britney. “It’s a really funny story, actually.”
“No problem,” said the driver. I returned to my seat, where i found Britney and Justin kissing and groping each other. With a heavy sigh I picked up the bottle of sizzurp that had fallen from the first boy toy’s pocket and took a long, hearty swig as I thought about the years ahead, eventually falling into a deep, fitful slumber.
“Whitewater,” I muttered to myself as i began to doze. “Monica…Benghazi… Emails….Britney Jean..”
To be continued…
Written by: Judah Martin
Contact: judahmartin1993@gmail.com
Judah Does Journalism (And Other Writing) 