Byline: Dianne Williamson

COLUMN: DIANNE WILLIAMSON

It seemed like just yesterday, during the halcyon time in the life of Britney Spears, that I saw her strut frenetically around the Worcester Centrum and later advanced the theory she was, quite possibly, the devil.

It was July 2002, and Britney had been named the No. 1 celebrity in the world by Forbes magazine. I had gone to her concert prepared to be bored, and later realized to my horror that I was humming one of her stupid songs on the way home.

That’s part of the reason I suggested that she may well be the anti-Christ. I noted that the then-20-year-old pop tart didn’t sing particularly well and had lowered the standards of music around the world. I mentioned that her image of a virgin trapped in the body of a slut had caused mass confusion among parents, who weren’t sure whether Britney was helpful or harmful to the psyches of their impressionable daughters.

“Isn’t that the job of the devil?” I wrote. “To subtly seduce, to destroy the value of what we hold dear, to chip away at our very senses?”

The column was a bit tongue-in-cheek, but that didn’t stop legions of 12-year-olds from zipping off feverish e-mails rife with exclamation points, explaining that Britney rules and she’s, like, totally talented, and I’m just jealous because I’m old and not as pretty as her and besides, I happen to be an idiot.

What’s happened since then is the same old story. Britney married a guy in Vegas, divorced him a few hours later, married K-Fed, had kids, divorced him, shaved her head, neglected her children in full view of the paparazzi, inexplicably adopted a British accent, took to wearing no underwear in public, danced like a cyborg zombie at the MTV music awards, reached out to Oprah-endorsed TV psychologists, and had major televised meltdowns.

Now, we’re supposed to feel badly for Britney. The poor kid is a victim of a celebrity culture that chewed her up. Her addictions, self-absorption and bizarre behavior are cause for compassion, not contempt. The fact that she has a gazillion dollars and countless “people” to cater to her only increases our sympathy.

I’m trying to keep up, really. Now, though, comes news that the paparazzi are over Britney. According to the New York Daily News, a top photo agency head claimed that the media has moved on. “Over the weekend, there were less than a half dozen covering Britney,” said BuzzFoto founder Brad Elterman.

Dare we dream? Is this an April Fools’ prank? Or is it bye-bye Britney?

I’m guessing, not a chance. It’s pointless to argue that we should pay no mind to this pampered young star, because we can’t help ourselves. Which is too bad. Britney, you’ve been chasing the limelight since you were born. It’s time to give it a rest. Your public is exhausted.

For starters, I’m tired of according sympathy to spoiled celebs who don’t deserve it. I don’t care if Britney or Lindsay Lohan or Paris Hilton are in recovery or rehab or crisis or drunk or desperate or looking for love or crying on the inside. These women have been given every opportunity and lived lives most girls dream of. And they behave like imbeciles. I choose to save my sympathy for girls raised by drug-addled single moms who can’t afford publicists and high-priced rehab centers. When Britney became such a train wreck that K-Fed was considered the stabilizing influence in the family, that’s when I chose to jump off.

But I sense we’re not quite done with her, or her demons. Just as paparazzi interest supposedly wanes come rave reviews for Brit’s small role in the sitcom “How I Met Your Mother.” She played a ditz who uttered the line, “Can we have sex and then go shopping?” Now there’s a stretch. Now, rumors swirl that she’s being offered the role of tragic boozer Blanche DuBois in a new London theater production of “A Streetcar Named Desire.”

Perhaps most chilling, though, is news that the paparazzi have moved on - to wholesome Miley Cyrus. Mr. Elterman says the paparazzi want “something new and fresh,” and so the pack has shifted to the 15-year-old pop star, who, so far, still remembers to wear panties in public.

Too bad that’s no April Fools’ joke.

Contact Dianne Williamson via e-mail at dwilliamson@telegram.com.

Robin Williams and Marsha Garces Williams, married in April 1989, are splitting up. Garces Williams filed a divorce petition in San Francisco on March 21, seeking to end her marriage to Williams on the grounds of irreconcilable differences.

She is in her early 50s; he is 56. They married soon after Williams’ divorce from Valerie Velardi, to whom he had been married for 10 years. Williams’ and Garces’ daughter, Zelda, was born in July of that year; their son, Cody, in 1991.

Williams and Garces met while she worked as a nanny for Zachary, born in 1983 to Williams and Velardi. Garces subsequently worked as personal assistant to the comedian. Four years after their marriage, in a New York Times interview, he said, “I don’t need to go out to a club now and get a little bit of intimacy from 100 or 200 people. Now I can get that talking to friends around the table.”

Over the years, as their family grew, Williams and Garces worked together, both professionally and toward values they shared. In 1991, they founded Blue Wolf Productions; Garces produced “Mrs. Doubtfire,” “Patch Adams,” “Jakob the Liar” and “Robin Williams Live on Broadway.”

Together they also created the Windfall Foundation, a non-profit that focuses on education, health, the environment and the arts. Garces has particularly been involved with Doctors Without Borders and Seacology; Williams with the Christopher Reeve Foundation (he was Reeve’s classmate at Juilliard) and Comic Relief. Their house, in Sea Cliff, was the site of a variety of big-ticket fundraising dinners and cocktail parties, but also Halloween central for neighborhood trick-or-treaters.

Williams has done two publicly acknowledged stints in rehab: for drugs in the ’80s and, after staying sober for 20 years, for alcohol in 2006. The couple was out and about at various events upon his return, and in the past year, he has delighted Bay Area audiences by dropping in unannounced for surprise appearances at comedy events and clubs.

Garces was not at Williams’ side when he was honored by the San Francisco International Film Festival last spring, and amid reports of many sightings in Marin County, where he was said to have been living, rumors of problems have been rife for months.