The Ass Twerked Round the World

Folks, we've had something of a national crisis on our hands these last few days.  Something that points to the rot at the heart of our society, and something that we all need to be deeply concerned--even outraged--about.

I'm speaking, of course, of Miley Cyrus' skanked-up performance at the VMAs.

At first, I refrained from commenting.  Pop divas are rather like a monster under our collective bed--if you retards would just stop thinking about them, and talking about them, and clicking on them, and would immediately change the channel whenever the shit-fest that passes for news in this country started 'covering' them, then they would go away.  But apparently that is beyond the mental ken of most of my countrymen, and as the gab-fest and manufactured outrage and concern trolling and 'what-about-the-children' continued, I noted, with increasing dismay, that hardly anyone cut through the fog of vacuous crap to say what needed to be said.

One man tried, I'll give him that, but after landing a single magnificent hammer-blow right on the pigtailed clusterfuck that was the nail's head, he then wandered off to go yell at some kids to get off his lawn.  So apparently I have to do it.  Thanks for nothing, internet.

My dear retarded fellow Americans, my purveyors of moral outrage at skankitude and minstrelsy, my fashionistas and "news" "reporters", my gossip columnists and half-interested googlers, ye drooling mouthbreathers that stopped flipping at the sight of tits, my representatives of the "music" industry and concerned mothers everywhere, all of those 'saddened' that sweet little Hannah Montana reverse dry-humped some cunt in a prison tux: HEAR ME!, for you have missed the fucking point.

Miley Cyrus is shit.  

Always has been, always will be: irredeemable, worthless, soul-destroying, aesthetic detritus utterly devoid of artistic merit; a betrayal of the human spirit and a slanderous misrepresentation of the human experience; a cliche wrapped in a canned beat, sung by a no-talent, auto-tuned hack, injected with hormones and antibiotics, force fed the decaying parts of previous 'artists', and finally topped off with some cellophane and a price tag--you know, shit.  Shit before tits, shit after tits; shit as a lily-white Disney prostitot, shit in her 'daring' attempts to co-opt 2010 black culture--just plain ol' shitty shit.

So how did it come to this?  How did this lukewarm diarrhea get loaded up with sodium, preservatives, and artificial flavoring and shipped out for human consumption?  Because folks would rather talk about the new skin-colored label than the product.  Because we're more 'concerned' about tits and twerking than the thought of our kids actually ripping open that package and slurping it down.

Where are your goddam priorities, people?  There is one thing, and one thing only, that needs to be said about Miley Cyrus, and, by extension, nearly all of pop music--it's shit.  Don't google it, don't talk about it, don't click on the links; when it comes up on the "news", then change the channel; if you catch your children with it, then beat them with a stick and drag them to the symphony.

Flush the turd--don't stand around and flap your gums and stare.