In honor of the pulsing sportsmanlike aura surrounding this weekend's Super Bowl, I'd like to turn over a new leaf. Over the past year, I've been a big, fat jerk. Like the rest of the MTV-adoring, People magazine-clutching celebrity gossip sluts in the world, I gasped in horror when Britney Spears became the poster mom for MDKL — Mothers for Driving with Kids on their Laps, of course. I chuckled to myself at the sight of Kevin Federline as he "lost control" in front of a crowd of zit-faced preteens at the Kid's Choice Awards. And, sigh, I even rushed out to buy K-Fed's Playing With Fire the day it dropped, just so I could make fun of the man. Pathetic, I know. When I'm wrong, I say I'm wrong. So K-Fed, if you're reading this — and how could you not be reading the finest newspaper at the University of Wisconsin — I'm sorry, from the bottom of my black, pop culture-addicted heart. I'm sorry for the knocking your street cred, your fashion sense, your talent. I take it all back (well, most of it). I refuse to be another one of the haters out there bringing you down. It used to be that the general public, myself included, could sneer at K-Fed and his free-loading ways, living the high life as Britney's kept man. Sure, he wore the bling and donned that Yankees hat ever so perfectly cocked to the side, but when it came down to it, the man was not much of a rapper. But now that his marriage is on the outs, and his pop diva ex refuses to give in to his $50 million demands, the soon-to-be former Mr. Britney Spears is seeking other avenues of finding his own fame. He's making money, independent of his washed-up wife, still rapping his little heart out — only this time it seems he's come to terms with his immense level of suck: The man is having a laugh at his own expense. And still, people, namely the members of the burger-and-fry-peddling public, are taking issue with Special K. Why, how, could the fine people of the National Restaurant Association have a beef with him, you might ask? Recently, Nationwide Insurance a sneak preview of their Super Bowl commercial gem on their website. The latest installment to their "Life Comes At You Fast" ad campaign — a series that has also featured bulging romance icon Fabio and bankrupt rapper MC Hammer — shows the wannabe musician, looking suave in a black pinstripe number, fedora on head, rapping a little ditty and throwing his hands in the air. It all seems like a horrible nightmare at first, appearing a tad too much like the promo for his latest single. But alas, it is but a daydream. Viewers with enough willpower to stay tuned for the stunning conclusion of the 30-second spot are treated to a surprise: K-Fed isn't a real rapper, he's actually a fast-food worker merely imagining a life in the spotlight. Hilarious, right? Federline is the true embodiment of the "Life Comes At You Fast" slogan. Marriage, two kids, Vegas shindigs, one album, a divorce, and now TV fry cook, all within a two-year span? Sounds pretty fast to me. Yet fast-food workers around the country are not laughing. According to ABC News, in a letter to Nationwide CEO Jerry Jurgenson, National Restaurant Association Chief Executive Steven Anderson scolded the insurance company, calling the ad "an insult to the 12.8 million restaurant workers in America." The NRA is offended at the depiction of the flopped star as a food industry worker, claiming the message of the commercial could have just as easily been achieved by showing K-Fed gripping an unemployment check. Now, correct me if I'm wrong here, but couldn't that just as easily offend a member of the unemployed community? Although the organization says the real problem lies in Nationwide's mere usage of the fast-food industry as the fall-back plan for the man with broken dreams, I think they are suffering from Federline phobia. Kev has had one hell of a past year and they are afraid his mere presence within a simulated fast-food environment will bring down the industry, unleashing a plague of greasy burgers and stale fries in restaurant chains across the country — too late. I just can't help but feel bad for the guy at this point. The man is the Charlie Brown of the rap-music/celebrity-husband industry. He cannot catch a lucky break to save his chain-smoking soul. It's one thing to sell a piddling 6,000 copies of your debut album in its opening week and split with your wife, only to fall months short of your pre-nup payday, but it's quite another to fall victim to the scorn of an industry you once dutifully served. K-Fed, a faithful Pizza Hut delivery boy before meeting Spears, thought this ad would help clean up his image, but he thought wrong. All he wanted to have a good laugh to break up what is certainly a trying time in his life, when Britney is trying to take his kids away and is only willing to dish $25 million to send him packing. But instead, as always, "America's Most Hated" got dumped on. Love him or hate him, I know I'll be rooting for K-Fed during the third-quarter commercial break. Ashley Voss is a senior majoring in journalism. Do you also want to make amends with K-Fed in the New Year? Let Ashley know at [email protected]