Accounts of mounting American casualties in Iraq and the renewed specter of nuclear weapons acquisition by the despotic forces of Iran and North Korea have taken a backseat in recent weeks to a drama of far greater importance: the reduced f*ckability of Britney Spears.

As the peoples of the international community are now no doubt aware, Miss Spears shaved her head on the 19th of this month and is currently trekking around the wastelands of Los Angeles, a deranged and horrific mutant far less f*ckable than was previously assumed.

It would be a lie to say I did not foresee this occurrence.

The meteoric rise to fame for this still young starlet serves only to illuminate her ephemeral celebrity status – and as the fortunes of even the most stellar beacons wane with the passage of time, so too with our plummeting songstress. It appears that the concurrent forces of motherhood and marital collapse have finished the job that irrational decision making and incompatible career mission statements began. Also, did you guys see "Crossroads"? Holy shit.

Anyway, Britney is teetering on the precipice of lost sex appeal, a phenomena I will henceforth refer to as "boner denial."

In the annals of history, no greater menace has ever encroached upon Western society and civilization. The sleek, shiny reflection of light off Miss Spear's shorn cranium reminds one of the million gleaming spear tips of the Persian commander Xerxes, as he advanced on the hell-bound Spartans at the Battle of Thermopylae. Her apathetic, uninspired eyes bring to mind the dazed, demoralized faces of Polish cavalry in the relentless onslaught of mechanized Nazi aggression. Most disagreeable perhaps are her breasts, those sagging, formless, post-pregnant not-so-fun-bags which can't help but make one think of the collapse of Christian Byzantium to Ottoman fury.

The flagging libidos and disinterested penises of men everywhere are but symptoms of the catastrophic death-blow this "frivolous" exercise in "fun" has wrought upon the sexual future of mankind. Miss Spears' criminal disregard for the once promising rigid erections of world Penisdom may well be the harbringer as well as agent for a nonsexual malaise that could, I say this with great deliberateness here, herald the end of life as we know it.

It is clear now that the crippled sensuality and paralyzed bewitchery of Miss Spears shall lead to a devastating lack of masturbation and fantasy creation on the part of world masculinity and allied lesbianic elements. The consequences for this suspended jerking and clitoris manipulation are not yet clear, but I fear the worst.

My policy recommendation at this time would be for Miss Spears to go into hiding and work to restore her locks to their previous position of prominence. In addition, she ought to return to a rigorous fitness regimen and utilize her monetary assets to repair any surgical scars inflicted during the ill-adviced motherhood attempt. With these efforts, her triumphant return to sexiness could be achieved within months. Without them, we may all die.

Britney, I beseech you, do what you can to restore the free world's faith in your once nubile, teenage female body. Reawaken the latent bloodflow to America's genitals and capture once more the 18 to 35 year old male fascination with barely-legal snatchery. Without it, we are forlorn and finished, our culture as dead as Anna Nicole.

Help us Britney, or may God help you.