Taxpayers across America should be happy to know they paid for extensive planning to safely get Britney Spears to the hospital in the event of her inevitable recommittal, and so photographers could follow her into the emergency room. Not only did the LAPD block off roads, the FAA actually cleared airspace, God knows why, maybe the lawless paps bought a Predator drone or something. A source told People, "the motorcade and everything was planned, it was already in the works to have them block off the road and airspace. It worked out perfectly." Unlike, say, federal terrorism and disaster planning, which are still a mess. After the jump, First Responder cameramen (Never Forget) are told they could kill someone by barging into an ER, and they reply that they are just trying to live the American dream. [Update Feb. 1: The FAA denies clearing airspace for Britney, which means only local authorities like the LAPD are known to have expended their federally-subsidized budgets on Britney disaster planning.]

While rumors of Britney Spears' addiction to crystal meth have been swirling through the blogowebs for a few months now, two papers are now claiming last night's gurney shitshow happened after the fallen star spent days wide awake on Fergie's pre-hab drug of choice. The National Enquirer is reporting that Britney and manager Sam Lufti checked into the Beverly Hills Hotel at 2am on Wednesday morning after sporting around in the brand-new Mercedes she picked up earlier that day. Upon checking into the hotel:

Are we going soft if we're starting to feel a little badly for Mr. Phil? The guy answers one frantic phone call from a family in need, then instantly jumps to action, gathering a handful of tongue depressors, a non-functioning stethoscope, and a camera crew before rushing bedside to treat their daughter's Fake British Accent Disorder. He then innocently offers his frank assessment of her condition to Paramount TV syndie-cousin ET.

Oh dear. For those of you who actually sleep at night, you missed a whopper of an evening at the Spears household. After Britney's newly assigned psychiatrist visited her at her house in the early evening, he found her condition and recent antics so dismal, he contacted the LAPD in an attempt to have her officially committed to UCLA Medical Center — a plan that TMZ reports was "days in the making". What followed was an all-night is-she-or-isn't-she-sane frenzy, the timeline of which we've etched out for you after the jump:

A top British dance troupe will premiere their newest piece, Meltdown, about Britney Spears' tragic fall from grace, in London tomorrow evening. Richard Thomas, composer of the recent Jerry Springer opera, also wrote the music for this show. Thomas seems to be quite the critic; showing the world, with melancholy and a slight whiff of pity, what a sad bunch of fuck-ups we across the pond really turned out to be. [AFP]

Apparently waking up from a two-year coma, Britney Spears' shrink decided tonight she just might be a reckless danger to herself; her Mom earlier tonight was worried she might kill herself because Britney was acting sort of, you know, weird on the phone, which you wouldn't expect; hanger-on Sam Lufti rolled his eyes because she was kind of grating on him after pulling a Red-Bull-fueled all-nighter and yelling at him in the car and it's all getting kind of worrisome for him at this point.

"The shrink was alarmed at her reckless driving and her conduct and has decided Brit needs to be hospitalized on another 5150 hold." [TMZ] (Photo/X17)

X17 reports her mom, police and ambulance rushed to the house. More at P6. Update: False alarm, she's OK, thankfully, headline updated. (Photo/X17)

Australian media prodigy Corey Worthington planned and executed a Braveheart-style melee, and was smart enough to have friend video it, a worrying sign he's becoming media-savvy enough to ruin us all. America doesn't really make anything anymore, like computers or a decent car or working levies; we borrow all our money from the Chinese and deposit it in banks we're now selling off to various oil emirates. But we do have The Wire, reality television and a world-beating collection of media-whoring celebrities, chief among them Britney Spears, and now Worthington is about to destroy everything, because he's more clever and powerful than we ever imagined.

Tonight it was Brad Pitt's housekeeper calling the cops after a paparazzo blocked the star's driveway with his car; yesterday brought footage of the disturbing-but-not-technically-illegal hounding of Eva Longoria at an LA hair salon; Monday Britney called the cops to "contain" the paparazzi swarming all up in her driveway. Aggressive hordes of paps are nothing new but why the pronounced viciousness so far this year? Declining returns on the once-daunting Britney Spears economy? Pap desperation to meet ballooning subprime mortgage payments, what?

Incredibly, a fake lesbian "makeout" session with a hot friend is apparently still considered a savvy way to generate buzz, when really it's usually a desperate-looking appeal to the most drunken and knuckle-dragging heterosexual men and a clear marker of emotional vacancy. To wit, Paris Hilton and Elisha Cuthbert, reported snogging at Tenjune last night by a source who tells Us Weekly how Paris "loves putting on a show" (rilly?). After the jump,some landmark girl-on-girl couplings in the long, stupid history of psuedo-lesbianism:

Britney Spears has already flashed her nipple and her handler has flashed some iPhone drama, but you couldn't be bothered, so now Brit is flooding the zone and insists you WILL pay attention to her: In the past couple of hours we have learned she wore a see-through shirt (left) while out at a mall with estranged-as-of-last-night-handler Sam Lufti, bought a new Benz, reunited with her mom, argued with her mom in public, decided to press forward and seek visitation with her kids and apparently there's some kind of intervention in the works, God knows why. Click through for a bigger shot and to show you care.

Britney Spears, her no longer estranged mom Lynne and sketchball manager Sam Lufti hit a Beverly Hills Mercedes-Benz dealership earlier this afternoon in search of some good old-fashioned retail therapy. Brit Brit arrived on the scene dressed in typical scattershot fashion: faux intellectual glasses, the dirtiest pair of cowboy boots west of El Paso and some sort of belly-baring lace-accented sweater thingie. And in case you're wondering, no, she didn't buy anything. Good thing, considering she still doesn't have a valid driver's license. [TMZ]

Britney Spears' face, and someone else's body, on the front of the latest Blender. [Idolator]

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Reuters might have another little problem with dramatic photos from the Middle East. The wire service sent this photo out last week with the caption "Palestinian lawmakers attend a parliament session in candlelight during a power cut in Gaza January 22, 2008." The photo—taken, along with a couple similar ones, by Gaza local Reuters photog Mohammed Salem—purports to show how Palestinian leaders are soldiering on in the face of the Israeli blockade and power cuts. Except that it's clearly the middle of the day, and sunlight would be streaming through the windows if the curtains weren't closed.

One has to admire Britney Spears' ability to make news on all but six weekdays this month. The manic popstar may be an inattentive mother but she provides material to news organizations with a regularity that puts most reporters to shame. Click for Spears' January calendar.

Last night, a quasi-dramatic screaming match between Britney Spears and her manager Sam Lufti quickly turned from a typical Monday With Britney™ into a full-on Mariah-style breakdown. After a barefoot and bruised-cheeked Britney called current loudmouth boytoy paparazzo Adnan saying, "Baby, come get me," The Animal's estranged parents rushed onto the scene, as did the LAPD. When the frantic Adnan finally arrived, he was denied entrance to Brit's castle and then became engaged in one of the eeriest text message conversations we've ever seen (conveniently delivered via iPhone!):

In 1998, in The Truman Show, an insurance adjuster played by Jim Carrey discovered that his life was a television show; his every move monitored by cameras; every person in his life a performer, and his world a gigantic soundstage. The movie was a parable, inspired by reality television, but taking the early model of the mediated life to its outrageous conclusion. No longer so outrageous. Here, pictured, is a text message from Britney Spears' confidante, Sam Lufti, telling her exploitative paparazzo boyfriend to disappear. "If you continue to have any contact, you'll kill her." Of course, the exchange, just like the troubled popstar changing out of her dancing gear or weeping on her bed, was played out in front of the cameras. The Truman Show no longer works as satire; reality has caught up with the conceit. There is a difference, however. Truman Burbank was the dupe, unaware of his role in the show. By contrast, the central character in this tawdry soap, Britney Spears, is complicit. If anybody's the dupe, it's the audience, half-suspecting that, as in this picture, Adnan Ghalib is tilting his iPhone toward the camera, but preferring to believe that this is an authentic drama to which the viewer has sneaked access.