Britney’s new “Work Bitch” video makes me think of you.
Really? Because it makes me think of popular culture’s conspiratorial role in perpetuating the myth of social mobility as a function of conspicuous consumption during late-stage capitalism.
You want a Bugatti? You want a Maserati? Well, it doesn’t matter if you work, bitch. You will never have those things. You will not live fancy. You will not live in a big mansion. You will not party in France.
But by all means, work bitch. Slave away for your hourly wage so you can save up enough disposable income to purchase a bottle of Britney’s Hidden Fantasies perfume or a Beats by Dre Pill Speaker. I mean, are you fucking kidding me with that product placement?
Just look at this image. It’s the most brilliant and insidious visual metaphor I’ve ever seen in a music video. Voiceless and obedient, silenced in voluntary bondage to a plastic pop culture artifact. Push the button and Britney’s latest club hit spews forth from her mouth instead of original thoughts and opinions.
You know who that is? She’s you, bitch. You’re the one wearing a bit gag. You’re the one being whipped. You’re the one chained up by a millionaire on top of an inverted pyramid. And of course, you’re the one who thinks it’s all so hot.
“You better work, bitch” isn’t a suggestion. It’s not encouragement. It’s a fucking order, one that you blindly follow in the hopes that some day you might earn an invitation to the sexy Vegas dance party in the sky.
Well, guess what? That will never happen.
Now get to work, bitch.