And by Plan B I mean both an alternative career, and the emergency contraceptive. But before we begin I’d actually like to thank the girl for her performance at Sunday’s VMAs. Its a satisfying day for me when everybody I know wants to engage in judgmental banter against a common foe. Without further ado…
Well. Miley is obviously a pathetic person for believing that a stunt of this ridiculous extent would gain her stature in front of her colleagues and fans. Because aside from the flagrant vulgarity and utter lack of taste, there wasn’t a concept for this performance within a country mile of Miley’s crotch. I’m gonna call it teddy bear date rape and a solid 6 minutes of injecting cocaine into my eyes. It’s horrifying that this was able to transpire… that someone paid to construct a teddy bear large enough to birth Miley, that an enormous woman’s ass was slapped harder than a bag of Franzia, that Miley got to second base with herself, that she touched Robin Thicke at ALL seeing as though he is 36 and she is 20.
Do we think of you as Hannah Montana anymore? Well, no, we don’t. But we DO think of you as a person who might somehow give us chlamydia via our ear buds. It’s a valid enough fear that I literally have to remove “We Can’t Stop” from my ‘Straight Jams’ playlist. FML.
Robin Thicke, don’t think I don’t judge you as well. Have some decency dude… this girl’s not even old enough to buy beer. Its all sorts of wrong that the only thing between her and your manhood was a foam finger. I used to get you confused with Michael Buble… in fact I was planning an upcoming post discussing who between the two of you is a more pretentious crooner. But that verdict is now signed, sealed, delivered. I don’t know how you sleep next to your wife at night.
And let’s just compare Miley’s performance for a moment to Justin Timberlake’s, which was so transcendent that it basically changed the direction of our orbit around the sun. Without lifting a foam finger.