Years ago whenever I wanted to piss off my roommate I would tune into the Disney Channel and crank the volume to just below the point where the neighbors would get upset. The living room shared a door with his room so even when he wasn’t watching tv, he was most definitely hearing it. He knew just as well as I did what was next. The war had begun, and I had thrown the gauntlet. It was a war of wits, a battle of constitution, and neither of us were going to break. Now it wasn’t the Disney Channel, per say, that bothered him, but rather what would undoubtedly appear in the next few seconds—that mind numbing brand of drivel that only Disney could deliver to their screaming zombie army of consumer-whore children neatly packaged into a little girl named Miley Cyrus. As I said, it was a battle of the wits—neither of us could stand Miley Cyrus or her alter ego Hanna Montana (or any of the other characters on the show for that matter), but unlike my roommate, I had the the upper hand, being able to justify my pain as it would cause him more pain. Little did I know, karma was getting ready to bend me over like Marcellus Wallace in a dimly lit pawn shop basement. Behold, this is what my evil antics have brought upon this world:
The song they are referring to is
There are so, so many questions to ask. For instance, why are you dressed as a Native American, and who at Disney thought it would be a good idea to dress you up as a Native American? What situation calls for dressing as an Indian? Are you doing a rain dance on stage? A portrail of the first Thanksgiving? Then I don’t see a reason for you to dress up as an Indian, or—more importantly—have an interview while dressed as such. And who the hell is that weird little albino girl sitting 4 feet away from you, and why can’t she sit closer?
Granted I can understand that Miley is young and perhaps has no control over what they (the Disney execs and her once great father) make her do, but what I cannot understand is why the reporter is being an insidious douche and egging her on with the Jay Z songs that are obviously inappropriate for a younger audience? What about Lucifer or Moment of Clarity? Did he really think that this would be his big chance to uncover the scandal that Hanna Montana listens to what a normal 16 year old (with amazing taste I might add) might enjoy? Perhaps he is tapping into something deeper, perhaps the fear that all the midwest mom’s and dad’s have but don’t want to admit they have, that Miley has been corrupted by the big black scary Jigga man and one day their kids will ask for the Hanna Montana bedazzled 9mm and pink 40 oz (all trademarked by Disney, of course). Obviously this video, her topless Vanity Fair shoot, and her much criticized stripper pole dance at the Teen Choice Awards give us a glimpse of a more sexualized Miley Cyrus, but let’s not criticize HOVA for that, rather lets look to the second chorus—A Brittney song was on/ A Brittney song was on.
Okay, I can deal with you calling Jay Z’s music pop music because I’m going to believe you meant to say a cross-over success (and it did meet with a lot of success on the pop charts), but you’re not pop? Miley Cyrus is undoubtedly the epitome of a pop artist (and I use the term artist as loosely as possible): marketing herself to a demographic that are as malleable as the play-doh they just put down; not writing her own music (or having any connection to it); creating more of a brand than any type of lasting music; and finally, letting a corporation like Disney control her life.
And to review, cowboy boots are not kicks. Behold
The worst part of it all—I think she looks kind of hot in that music video. Yeah, I know I’m gross. On a closing note, if Miley is willing to cover a Brittney Spears song but not a Jay Z song then eat it Miley, Disney, and all you copyright loving bastards: