On Miley Cyrus

I am addicted to gossip columns. There, I've said it. I don't function well unless I've skimmed the better blogs every morning to see what horrendously stupid things people with little brains and dubious celebrity have done.

I'm already over the Miley Cyrus thing. I've never been a fan. The show is horrendous, and I have little patience for parents that propel their kids into situations that bring a lot of public scrutiny. Even worse are the parents that weasel their talentless, washed-up butts into their kids' limelight. Yes, Achy Breaky Mullet Head, I'm talking about you. The aforementioned Mr. Mullet Head and his brood make their Tennessee home approximately 10 miles north of the small town in which I live. Mr. Mullet Head has also appeared regularly at a local chain restaurant on Family Night with a stack of pics of Miley that he autographs. No Miley in sight, of course. Every kid in the area worships her. I don't get it, but I'm way past 11 years old.

I don't think that the pictures are that bad. Annie Liebovitz, after all, is an amazing photographer. But, did Miley consent to it? Did she know what she was getting in to? Is she apologizing to her fans because she was told to, or because she is really embarrassed? There certainly isn't anything racier than you would see in a bathing suit in those pics, but the insinuation is certainly there. I really feel terrible for the poor kid. We don't need another Jamie Lynn Spears.