To spear Britney or not to spear Britney...
That is the question.

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of her really bad music
Or to take arms against Britney
(With a spear or a good hard brick),
And by opposing her, end her.

To hear her insipid songs no more...
To be spared her fat little belly button on MTV...
By simply calling
A local Russian hit man in Brighton Beach
We end the heartache,
And the thousand natural shocks,
The really annoying site of seeing her lilly white ass

On every teen magazine on the racks,
With the really bad makeup job
That her flesh is heir to.

'Tis a naughty deed indeed, devoutly to be wish'd.
To kill Britney...
To strangle Britney...
To cause her to sleep....
Perchance to dream: oy, there's the rub!
For in that sleep of death what nightmares may come
When we have snuffed out her mortal coil,
It could give us pause.
Could it be?
For Britney, not really being human,
May just come back to haunt thee.