People I Hate: Miley Cyrus

Name:
Miley Cyrus

Born:
November 23, 1992 Franklin Tennessee

Profession:
Singer, actress

Reason I hate her:
She's a spineless twit who wanted to show her spine


Let's be clear on this. I don't hate Miley for her acting chops or her singing ability. She is neither amazing nor gag-inspiring. She is a phenomenon bred by Disney, and as such her skills are par for the course. I've tuned in for the occasional "Hannah Montana" episode, and while they did drive my adrenaline levels into the roof and put me into a snarling vicious rage, they didn't do so any more than any program before or after it. Frankly, I was more than content to leave Ms. Cyrus out of my attack runs. Nothing I was inclined to have around, but certainly no threat.

But this whole Vanity Fair nonsense has pushed me over the edge, and now I'm pissed.

Look, I can understand people snapping pictures to make you dirtier than you are, then topping it off with words like "scantily clad," "whore-mongering," or even the dreaded "slutty." These sort of scenarios aren't easy on the rest of us either. God knows I've been inundated with enough celebrity snatch to make the JC Penny catalogs feel like safe harbor. The viciousness of the savage photographer can truly hurt everyone included. You don't need the bad press, and I don't need to know more about you than I care to. So by all means, protect your physical assets from these paparazzi fiends.

Oh wait, this wasn't an act by the paparazzi was it? No you actually hired the photographers didn't you?

You agreed to the photo session, had your family standing there while you were posing for it. And this wasn't even some analog, old school film, "you'll see the shots when they're developed" scenario. It was all digital baby. You see the results after the click. Convenient.

So it would seem there would be no reason to flip out over the end result would there? And yet, you have. You have flipped out in such extravagant fashion, I almost want to offer you a Valium to calm your dumb ass down.

"We're oh so embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable state. Those mean ol' photographers took advantage of me and my trust. Now the world knows what my thoracic vertebrae look like. Boo hoo, boo hoo."

Blah blah blah....

Look, if you're not ready for big girl pictures, fine. No need to do anything you're not ready for. Say no to the sessions, no harm no foul. You want to say "Damn the fates," and snap a few provocative photos? Well shit, power to you. But bear in mind that grown-up pictures require grown-up actions.

Be prepared to defend those pictures. To tell the world that you want to be viewed in a more adult fashion. To make the statement to the world that the presence of skin isn't an evil thing. Hell, I might even stand by your side in a battle like that. Standards must be maintained, no argument there but come on, it's skin for fuck's sake. Most of us can claim to have it, and the high percentage of it isn't prone to sin or hellfire. These ridiculous fanatics who insist that their role models cannot be allowed to grow up or change in any way are an exercise in futility. And they need to be put in their place. You could've have been just the person to do that.

But you didn't. You copped out. Made huge apologies and tried to paint Annie Leibovitz like some vengeful evil person who ran off with your virtue. These are not the actions of an adult dear Miley, but of a sad little child who's still trying to please everybody.

So do us all a favor and run on back to Disney. Stay in their shrouded, candy-covered shell making bad TV. You're not ready for the harsh realities of the real world. This is a place that can hate you just as intensely as it loves you, and you will never, ever do any right. And if you're ready to fall over and sob every time people point and heckle, well then you're not ready for my world baby. Stick to what you know and keep the kiddies entertained with hair-brained antics and cheesy morals. Leave the adult situations to the experts.