Monday 26 August 2013

Dear Miley...

Dear Miley,

This morning I woke up to find that the internet suddenly turned into Victorian England.  At least that is the only explanation I have to make sense of all the controversy over your VMA performance.  In fact there seems to be so much upset over you that I kind of feel a little irresponsible for what I'm about to say.

I don't care about your performance.

Maybe it's because I don't have any daughters.  Maybe it's because I'm the last living soul who still exists in 2013 where I'm bombarded with twerking videos on a daily basis.  I can officially say I've seen cats and dogs twerking and they did a better job than the people twerking in animal costumes on your stage.  Maybe it's because I'm old enough to be your teenaged mother and I was watching Madonna masturbate on stage before "Achy-Breaky Heart" was a twinkle in your Daddy's eye.

If you think it's controversial for people to see a little girl they watched grow up on the Disney Channel doing a raunchy bump 'n grind well, Christina Aguilera was doing that long before anyone ever heard of Hannah Montana and, at the time, I found it way more uncomfortable than watching you.  But by the time you did it, it was already done (and done better) by Christina and Britney.  Aguilera even worked with Furries before you (Holla Furries! @ 3:38):

Honey, not only has this been done before, it is overdone.  Watching your performance had all the novelty of eating tired, grey leftovers that had been reheated too many times.  Little girls proving to the world that they are all grown up by overtly demonstrating their sexuality is just a trope now.  We expect it.

It's a phase like biting or tantrumming or colouring on the walls.  The only appropriate response to you right now should be "Oh look!  She knows sex now.  Isn't she cute?"  And then wait for you to get over it.  In approximately 2-5 years you will probably be hawking organic Furry onesies for babies on your own Mom-blog alongside Gwyneth Paltrow and Jessica Alba.

You know something, Miley?  For all my snarkiness here, I kind of like you.  I don't know why (I certainly don't like your music), but I do. You are young and rich and beautiful and are no doubt having the time of your life.  You are a very mediocre yet very famous popstar.  Being raunchy on a stage isn't likely to ruin your life.  At worst it will probably embarrass you in the same way old pictures of you falling asleep on the potty will embarrass you.  My advice to you girlfriend, is let your freak flag fly.  You're only young once so live it up.  You want to be raunchy?  Go for it.  As long as you're having fun.

But let's be honest here: there is a metric fuckton of try in this performance.  If you are truly trying to shock anyone other than your grandmother you are going to have to do better.  If you really want to shock people you have to do something unexpected.  Do something no one ever expects young, beautiful rich people to do.  Go to college.  Get arrested at a protest.  Start a not-for-profit business.  Join the circus.  Start a cult.

But then it's possible that I've missed the point entirely.

Perhaps the whole point is to have you ironically playing the little girl grown up while ironically bumping and grinding on Robin Thicke, who is simultaneously ironically disrespecting women and generating even more irony because NONE of this SHOULD be controversial, because it's all been done before by people who did it with MORE shock value, thus creating a huge vortex of collective irony on the stage so massive it collapses in on itself and becomes one giant, ironic black hole birthing a whole new ironic universe.

Because if that was your goal then brava, girlfriend!  You are a fucking MENSA level genius.

P.S. (Dear Internet:  Calm the fuck down.  You are the birthplace of Goatse.  Get a grip.)