Prepare for an onslaught of “Oops, She Did It Again” headlines: Britney Spears has confirmed a second pregnancy. She confirmed it right next door, at a Letterman taping. I was so close! So close to a scoop! And yet I just sat there, eating nasty carob-coated almonds and wracking my brain for Knight Rider jokes.

The stakes are high. If this baby doesn’t open big, you may see a steep dropoff in Hollywood pro-creation. Though I expect “tent-poling” will probably continue.

At any rate, this is a great moment for a great nation. How will you celebrate Dos de Spearso? I plan to make a traditional papier-mache “Britneyata” full of candy babies and invite neighborhood children to whack it with a traditional “Federline stick.” Later, I’ll ponder the desolation of a meaningless universe while listening to a remix of Popazao. I’ll probably end the day with a “sympathy vasectomy.”

I’m only half-kidding. The tabloid fertility cult has actually diminished my enthusiasm for propagation. Something about the nation’s (or is it just the media’s?) insatiable hunger for all-things-successfully-inseminated has turned my stomach. I may very well be alone in this, but is there anyone else out there who feels like this is part of the Greater Natalist Conspiracy?

So my question for you is: Which not-yet-conceived but oh-so-inevitable celebrity spawn are you least looking forward to? Personally, I’m bracing for Li’l Kristal Suite Hilton-Farrell. (Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.)

We got through Muppet Babies. We’ll get through this.

addCredit(“Britney Spears: Fernando Leon / Retna”)