The diaries of K. Fed, unearthed

Unless something notable happens in the next 93 years, it's safe to say that the breakup of Britney Spears and Kevin Federline was the most significant event of the 21st century. She was a pop star, and he was a dancer/model/actor/rapper/wrestler. You can't really get more compatible than that. But then, last November, Britney filed for divorce, citing "irreconcilable differences." To shed some light on the issue, I have managed to obtain exclusive, never-before-seen excerpts from the private journal of Mr. Federline himself. You're probably wondering how I could have done this. Well, it just so happens that I know a guy who knows a guy. And this guy, he knows another guy. But THAT guy, oh man. That guy doesn't know anybody.

FROM THE PRIVATE JOURNAL OF KEVIN FEDERLINE

1/23/05

The other day, I was perusing the collected works of Ren8e Descartes (whom I previously took to be a reputable philosopher) when I happened upon his Meditations on First Philosophy. Descartes begins the Meditations by renouncing all his previously held beliefs as potentially false. My initial reaction was unrestrained glee; finally, I thought to myself, a true skeptic! I was invigorated. However, to my horror, Descartes then proceeds to rebuild his reality by attempting to prove the existence of God! What sorcery is this? It should be obvious to anyone, especially fans of my wife, Britney Spears, that there is no possible way to prove the existence of the divine through the mundanity of secular logic. Such extrapolations border on the heretical.

Suffice it to say, I set that damned book on fire, then used the flames to light my opium pipe.

5/12/05

I was watching television last night with my beloved wife, pop superstar Britney Spears, when one of her "music-related videos" came on. I don't recall the title of it (something about infants), but I do remember noting the extreme amount of sexuality depicted in the video. My wife and her dancing cohorts were scantily clad, moving around in suggestive ways. I began to ruminate on the intrinsic carnality of man, the constant tension between the id and the superego. I turned to Britney.

"Have we not yet learned to tame the inner beast?" I exclaimed. "Are we no more than mere slaves to desire? And from where do we derive this fascination with the female breast? Is it evolutionarily advantageous, as some have theorized?"

She burped, then fell asleep.

9/14/05

Our first child, Sean Preston, was born today. I wanted to name him Arnold Franz, after the pioneering 20th century composer Arnold Franz Schoenberg, my musical inspiration. However, my wife, fashion icon and sex symbol Britney Spears, was opposed. She doesn't share my affection for 12-tone music. I truly can't comprehend her resistance to the genre; how can she fail to hear the inherent beauty in such a fractured harmonic language? Is she daft?

1/1/06

Po, po, po, po, PopoZ8bo! PopoZ8bo!

3/27/06

I am troubled by what appears to be a growing rift in my marriage to cultural phenomenon and global trendsetter Britney Spears. For example, the other day she seemed appalled by my suggestion that I expose our young Sean Preston to the complete filmography of Jean-Luc Godard in place of that Teletubbies garbage. She had the same reaction when I tried to substitute The Sound and the Fury for Goodnight Moon. Christ, is it so wrong to have standards these days?

5/10/06

Today I solved the Riemann hypothesis and nobody cared.

9/28/06

After dosing myself with 300 micrograms of lysergic acid diethylamide, I have come to the realization that the flow of space-time is completely arbitrary and relative only to itself. I also discovered that I have the ability to phase through and merge with solid objects. This will no doubt be useful during my upcoming fight against WWE Champion John Cena.

I have also concluded that my wife, molecular biologist and celebrated astronaut Britney Spears, is in fact a pan-dimensional being sent from hell, love-child of the dark lord Satan and his unholy bride, comedian Joan Rivers. This is discouraging, to say the least.

11/5/06

I fear that my marriage is coming to an end. I can barely stand the sight of my wife, mythical sea creature and natural rock formation Britney Spears. I used to recite the poetry of John Donne to her while we made love; now she's been downgraded to William Carlos Williams. How trite. I only hope our impending divorce isn't too rough on young Sean Preston, as well as that other kid that Britney had two months ago whose name I can't remember.

In other news, I released my debut album this week, entitled Playing With Fire. It's a concept album about the unification of Italy. Pretty sure this one's a winner.