Miley Cyrus

My jaw dropped. Out came Miley, slinking her way down a giant teddy bear, wearing a one piece teddy-tard (instead of leotard) with a bear’s face that looked like he’d just swallowed acid and was tripping balls. Miley didn’t look too far behind, wagging tongue and rolling her eyes as she bounced around on stage at the MTV Video Music Awads (VMA’s) screaming: “Let me hear you make some noise!” I wanted to make noise, but couldn’t find words to express the sickening feeling in my gut.

What must have been millions of dollars, months of work, hundreds of people coordinating, and years of talent and experience (I’m talking the back-up dancers and stage managers who managed to pull this off) seemed to fizzle into the obnoxious gyrating of a buttless, entitled, 20 year old. I felt totally sorry for the people who were paid vast sums of money (yet not nearly as much as Miley must have gotten) who were there to witness the tacky and tasteless spectacle of a song-we’ve-already-heard-a-million-times get played yet again by a now even more naked Miley who ripped off the weird teddy-tard and opted for a tight, gold, spandex, bathing suit.

Then: as if the performance couldn’t get more ridiculously stupid, another artist came on in a 70’s style black and white suit, singing out of key, only to have the now nearly naked Cyrus bend over and rub her tiny butt on his balls. Oh yeah: fluffy, forgettable, entertainment at its styrofoam peak.

I stared at the screen long after the clip was done, wondering what I should think about all of what I just saw. My feminist side was screaming: “That just set us back by 20 years!”

My intellectual side screamed: “That whole thing said nothing but a ‘big booty-big booty’ song and a back-with-buns white chick just humped a man twice her age; where’s the originality!?”

My young, 20-something side said: “Can’t wait to see how Buzz-Feed will rip her a new asshole for that piece of hot, steamy trash”

More than anything, though, I felt deeply confused. Every year we’ve got songs, movies, ads and messages passed around about how to promote education, equality, respect for other humans, etc. Then, as if hurling a massive hot turd in the face of all of that, a Disney created princess (Miley Cyrus was originally a teeny-bopper ‘you-go-girl!’ chick back in the early 2000’s) turns into a bleached, garlic-knot-haired, sex fiend whose sole purpose is to suck on the balls of trashy pop and give clearly misguided advice to young women about how to dance with the guy singing badly behind you while performing at a concert.

Did she win, however? She got me riled enough to write a post about her crotch-grabbingly bad performance. Isn’t that the point, after all? Bad press is still good press, when you need views and can get people watching. And talent doesn’t have to be present in the performer: all the hundreds of people it took to make Miley the lead are the real winners, having created a show so bad it’ll be talked about for weeks; maybe even making its debut in a SNL sketch.

I just hope, sincerely, that my generation can watch something that atrocious and think: “Hilarious! Stupid! Can’t wait to make fun of that hot bag of garbage!”

Instead of: “Where can I get a gold bikini like that? And that guy need to get his tiny penis right in between my sweet buns.”

Gross.

August 26, 2013 at 7:28 pm by Natalie Allen