This is a story about a girl named Lucky…

I keep forgetting to share my theory that Taylor Swift’s “The Lucky One” is actually a sequel to Britney’s “Lucky,” or even a fantasy that Britney will eventually get to escape Hollywood:

New to town with a made up name in the angel city,
Chasing fortune and fame.
And the camera flashes, make it look like a dream.
You had it figured out since you were in school.
Everybody loves pretty, everybody loves cool.
So overnight you look like a sixties’ queen.

Another name goes up in lights, like diamonds in the sky.

And they’ll tell you now, you’re the lucky one.
Yeah, they’ll tell you now, you’re the lucky one.
But can you tell me now, you’re the lucky one.

Now it’s big black cars, and Riviera views,
And your lover in the foyer doesn’t even know you
And your secrets end up splashed on the news front page.

And they tell you that you’re lucky.
But you’re so confused,
Cause you don’t feel pretty, you just feel used.
And all the young things line up to take your place.

Another name goes up in lights. You wonder if you’ll make it out alive.

Right?!?? (Ok, I know it’s probably a coincidence that two songs about the downsides of fame involve the word “lucky,” and this song is most likely about Joni Mitchell. But I like my theory a lot better.)

So, I’m a hypocrite. Last night I was talking with a friend and he started making jokes about Penn State, like, “When you think about it, one or two little boys a year seems a pretty fair sacrifice for a winning football team.” And even though I knew he wasn’t at all serious, I said, “No—stop. There’s nothing funny about the sexual abuse of children, don’t even try.”

Then today I saw this video—about McGonagall’s lust for little Ron Weasley—and laughed my ass off. Maybe the lesson is that you can make jokes about pedophilia if Britney Spears provides the soundtrack.