To: Billy Ray Cyrus
Subject: The lobotomy didn’t work.
Billy Ray’s daughter, Miley, is a popular girl, with a crazy schedule. I mean, getting her gynecology exam mixed up with her appearance at the MTV Awards is perfectly understandable. It could happen to anyone and I, for one, think it’s reprehensible that there are those who believe she appeared as she did on purpose! I mean! To imagine that any human being, or even a pop star, could be so desperate that they would debase themselves so thoroughly for attention – and in their grandmother’s underwear! – is demeaning in the extreme.
The heartlessness exhibited by those who publicly ridicule this precious child, despite the advanced case of tongingus hyperactimus, (TH) – whose sad victims are unable to constrain the activities of their tongues – with which she is so obviously afflicted, is inhuman.
I, for one, applaud Justin Timberlake for his support of Ms. Cyrus. His energetic contributions to the elevation of moral standards is legendary; had he been there, I have no difficulty imagining him standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Dr. King on that historic march whose 50th anniversary we celebrate, flanked by twelve voluptuaries in various stages of undress twerking their way up the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, exemplifying the freedom of expression for which so many fought, bled, and died, to the edifying strains of We Got Booty!
I contend, ladies and gentlemen, that this is our Greatest Generation; the culmination of the Great American Experiment, indeed, of all the progress of the great human pageant of which we are, to greater or lesser degrees, a part. And I am confident that, one day – having reviewed the their video scrapbooks with their wide-eyed children and grandchildren, these offspring and the offspring of their offspring will gaze up at them in wonder, their eyes milky with tears, and say ‘Mimi? Pops?, what the hell were you THINKING?’