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So Much For Retirement...

Now I am well aware it has been nearly four years since I wrote in this damn thing.  And in all honesty, while that annoying thing called "life" has taken precedent in that time over writing and expressing my opinion, this blog has never been far from my heart.  I still visit it every once in a while and look back on my old posts, pleasantly reminiscing about what an angry young man I could be at times.

In truth, it takes a lot to piss me off these days.  You could say I've mellowed quite a bit.
But sometimes, dude's gotta rant.  This is one of those times.  Strap in...

There's a cancer that has been plaguing pop culture all year long.  It's been poisoning my eyes, ears, and permeating my fucking soul.

Miley Cyrus. 

It's been ages since an entertainer infuriated me to this level.  No matter where I turned, there she was this year.  Ready to shamelessly self-promote her "adulthood."  And from the end of August on, it seemed like this bitch was completely unavoidable.  Not only was she all over the damn place, but every media outlet with a pot to piss in was all too ready to report about her every move.  Her "twerking" (for fuck's sake, that's not really twerking), her media appearances and performances, her controversial music videos.


Dear members of the mainstream media, I know it's your job to report the news, and that is sometimes a subjective thing.  We as human beings in the 21st century are drawn to controversy like a moth to a flame.  We love it.  We get hard thinking about it.  But there reaches a point where it's overkill.  We passed that point two months ago.  Time to stop.

Speaking of time (how's that for a segue, kids?), I found out today that Time magazine nominated Miley Cyrus as one of their candidates for Person of the Year.

Let that sink in.

Syrian President Bashar al-Assad.  Barack Obama.  Pope Francis.  Gay rights activist Edith Windsor.  Miley goddamned Cyrus.

I won't pretend to know much about the current sociopolitical landscape these days.  I'm not gonna try to make like I intimately know the works and efforts of any of the names listed above.  (Although some are certainly more prominent than others)  But to even consider listing her name with these others is criminal.  I don't care that she didn't win.  She was nominated.  She didn't even get nominated for a Grammy (rightfully so), but you're gonna consider her a contender?  Don't you people realize you are validating her? 


Has she fought for gay rights?  Has she tried to amend the reputation of the Catholic church?  Has she attempted to make changes in health care? (For better or for worse.)

No.  None of the above.  Not even close.  She's gone onstage with her horrible tattoos, her Tinkerbell haircut, and she's winked, stuck out her tongue, and wiggled her sorry excuse for a posterior back and forth while attempting to sing.

OK, let me backtrack a bit... I'll retract the "attempting to sing" comment.  If pop music has proven anything over the last four decades, it's that talent is optional.  Sure, sometimes you get a genuine entertainer out of the fold like a Justin Timberlake.  But by and large, it's a mixed bag.  For every ultra-successful JT, there's a pitiful reject from 98 Degrees we used to think had a decent singing voice.  So let us immediately put talent aside.  How sad is that?

With that said, let's get a few things out of the way right now.

1. I didn't used to have a problem with this child.  Back in her days as Hannah Montana, I knew she existed, but could care less how popular she was.  It was music for kids, and it was what it needed to be for that demographic.  Upbeat, bubbly, and cute.  No harm, no foul.  But...

2. This attempt to be "adult" is as transparent as her wardrobe.  Trying to pass off her attention-grabbing performance at the MTV VMA's as artistry, or a call to adulthood is laughable.  Say what you will about Lady Gaga and her appearance.  The woman is A) talented and B) genuinely artistic.  There's always a method to the madness.  What Miley did was simply an attempt to get everyone's attention and say "look at me."  Stupid ass us, we gave her just what she wanted, and she hasn't turned back since.  Because in that time, we've been exposed to...

3. Her tongue.  Bitch, stop it.  Gene Simmons's tongue doesn't see the light of day in a single KISS concert as much as yours does in a single TV performance.  It's not attractive.  It looks ghastly.  Stop it.  Now.  Along with...

4. The "twerking."  It's not legitimate twerking.  It's sad that I even know what constitutes "legitimate twerking."  This is really just a sorry wiggle of a sorry ass.  Oh, by the way...

5. You don't have a knockout body, so stop showing it.  I'm not trying to be chauvinistic here, but I know an attractive feminine form when I see one.  This is what drew people to Britney Spears back in her earliest days.  Girl had a bod.  Miley does not.  She doesn't have a great ass.  She's fit, for sure, but there are far better looking female bodies out there, in music, and in other forms of entertainment.  Hey, y'know what else many people have that's better than what you have?

6. Tattoos.  I don't have a problem with ink in general.  I don't own any, but if you do, go for it.  But by God, these are some of the worst tattoos I've ever seen.  What kind of idiot gets "ROLLING" tattooed on the bottom of one foot, and "$TONE" on the bottom of the other?  And for the record, this is one of the most unforgivably ugly pictures I have ever seen in my life.  (Incidentally, why is this "outrageous?"  Disgusting, yes.  Stupid, of course.  Outrageous?  Not so much)  Nothing says "sexy" like a closeup of the browning bottom of someone's feet.  Yeah, that's what gets me going.  But here's the thing that really bothers me...

7. The drugs.  Miley-poo clearly has no problem lighting a joint in public.  (By the way, how calculated was that?  I'll say this much, as scummy as this broad is, she knows how to market herself.  Don't think for a second that anything she does is "just because."  Everything is to generate a buzz.)  But she also doesn't mind endorsing the use of psychedelic drugs.  This legitimately upsets me.  Miley's fan base is mostly comprised of 20-something girls, maybe even younger.  This is a highly impressionable age.  My dad's goddaughter is a freshman in college, and I know she digs Miley.  But it concerns the ever-loving shit out of me when I read something like this, because while she is assuredly a smart girl, anyone can be susceptible to the ringing endorsements of figures in pop culture.  And while this is the most egregious item on this list, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention...

8. The giant kitten.  What the shit?

Look, I'm not even going to pretend that I dig on modern music.  I can't turn on the radio without hearing the same song eighteen times over.  And it's always a shitty song.  It's almost never listenable by my standards.  And it pretty much always makes me angry.  You know what two albums have been on endless rotation for me since the end of August?  No joke.  "Master of Puppets" and "Reign in Blood."  Yup.  The two greatest thrash albums of all time, both of which are 27 years old.  They have become my "go-to" albums in 2013.  And it's not just Miley that singes my ass.  Every time I hear that goddamned "Roar" song, I immediately want to stab my radio repeatedly.  So I'm not gonna say that she is the sole offender of awful music in this day and age.

But she is certainly the most visible.  And the most shameless.  And the most widely covered. 

And by far, the least respectable. 

You have musicians out there who, regardless of talent or merit, have been vocal advocates for gay rights or anti-bullying campaigns.  Then you have cats like Bono who champion every cause under the sun and work to genuinely raise awareness.  What has Miley Cyrus done in 2013 for anyone other than herself?  Seriously.  Everything she has done has been with the intent to raise her own stock and line her own pockets.


Y'know what I want for Christmas?  Santa, I hope you're listening.  I've been very good this year.  I've given to the homeless, I've moved furniture for people, I even gave my favorite dog some meat from my plate.  I think I deserve something nice, since I never ask for much these days.

I want a time machine.  That's right.  I don't care if it's a phone booth or a DeLorean.  It could even be a cardboard box like in "Calvin & Hobbes."  I'll squeeze in.

Why?  Because I want to save the world from this cancer.  I want to go back in time and prevent Billy Ray Cyrus from procreating.  Oh, I'll let him keep his life.  Maybe I'll even be magnanimous and perform a chemical castration as opposed to using a tetanus-infused penknife.  But he cannot breed.  He cannot.  I won't allow it.  For the sake of all mankind, his achey-breaky ass must not be allowed to have children.

Once again, proof positive we should have listened to Bill Hicks.   That cat was onto something.  For that matter, so were the cats at South Park.

And y'know what?  Shame on Billy Ray.  Shame on him for allowing his daughter to sink this low.  Shame on him for even letting his daughter get into entertainment in the first place.  He should have known better.  He should have heard enough of the cautionary tales to know what was possible. 

I hope he's happy.

I hope he's happy that his precious little girl is now the most visible female in the public eye.  I hope he's happy that her every little move is scrutinized, analyzed, and dissected to the point of absurdity in the third degree.  I hope he's happy that for as much money as she earns the Cyrus clan, she is widely criticized and reviled by pundits across the board.  And above all else, I hope he's happy that she's handling her fame so poorly. 

I hope he's happy, 'cause I'm not. 

I'm not happy that a dimwitted little trollup who proudly sings about partying, drugs, and being a cocktease is getting more notoriety than women like Malala Yousafzai.  I'm not happy that this insipid little tart is still grabbing headlines mere days after the passing of Nelson Mandela.  I'm not happy that this child has made a name for herself in the name of being sexy when she is, in fact, anything but. 

I made a comment on Facebook a few days ago about how I was happy that Miley Cyrus wasn't nominated for a single Grammy Award.  I don't normally agree with conventional definitions of what makes "good" music.  In fact, I'm still resentful over Jethro Tull topping Metallica in 1989 for "Best Metal Performance."  But I'll say this: the Grammy's made the right call.  There is nothing special about Miley's music.  More than that, we should not give her any further attention.  She's gotten more than enough. 

I sincerely hope in 2014, we move on.  I hope we forget about Miley's nonsense, as we have with so many other prominent media whores.  And look, we know the climax is coming.  It's a matter of time before she hits the wall and has some kind of public meltdown. 

Don't acknowledge it.  Don't sensationalize it.  Don't feel sorry for her, because she will have brought it all upon herself.  And if she really is an adult, she will have to deal with it like an adult.  Plain and simple.

Just let her go.  Let her become a distant, unpleasant memory.  Let her slip into the deepest recesses of our collective mind.  Let her go out not like a wrecking ball, but like the crying kitten she is. 

And if you like her, soak it up while she's still around.  'Cause it's gonna be a very ugly wreck.

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