None of you are surprised, I’m sure, about Miley Cyrus’s maybe but not really but totally admission that she smokes pot. But, um, don’t ask me to judge her for it. Like, the act of doing it, I mean. Because... well... come on now, honestly?
But we were never owned by Disney and put to work at 12, or 13, or however young it is when they start. Miley’s problem is that she was forced to make promises before she became a real person. I won’t curse, have sex before marriage, get drunk, or do drugs. The same failed formula Britney Spears tried to follow. And all of them before and in between.
As such, every experience afterwards is held up to that vow. It’s like backing your kid into a corner. The only way out is to lie about it, especially when you’re famous.
I like Miley more now that I did two years ago. Even her beat-me mouth is less offensive to me. A lot of that has to do with what appears to be an active attempt at removing herself from the spotlight so that she can do some growing, privately. I’d like to think it was motivated by a desire for self-discovery. Who can I be when I’m not onstage, singing for 12 year old girls? Do I want to be Taylor Swift?
Ultimately though, if staying in Hollywood is part of the choice, sometimes there is no escape. She can’t escape those old virginity and purity standards. She can’t escape the sickening fraud that permeates the Celebrity Ecosystem, especially in Los Angeles. Eyes are fake, cheeks are fake, lips are fake, tits are fake, and, yes, friends are fake too. These are the friends who’ll sell the phone camera video from your private birthday. God, that is depressing.
