I once promised my faithful readers – all three of them – that I was going to write Central Michigan Life’s sex advice column.
Well, don’t get your hopes up. I’m going to talk about Miley Cyrus instead.
My Facebook friends, who always keep me up-to-date on the most important news in the world, stopped talking about matters of grave importance — most recently, Ben Affleck being cast as Batman — to chat about something even more worthwhile, even more Earth-shattering, even more fundamental to the nature of our modern society: Miley Cyrus doing indescribable things to this guy dressed like Beetlejuice.
I hear Beetlejuice’s name is actually Robin Thicke, but I don’t know him, and I don’t care, so I’ll just keep calling him Beetlejuice.
Now, keep in mind, I’m no pop culture mogul. The experience I have is largely from awkward conversations with my mother as E! rambles on in the background about some Kardashian gaining 20-something pounds after her pregnancy before quickly moving into a segment about how “plus-size” girls are still a valuable asset to Hollywood. You go, Adele!
But, if I could just say from my completely apathetically amused standpoint, I find it hilarious that our society pressures our most visible women to gobble up pills, go on starvation diets, and embark on ridiculous exercise regimes so they can look great in bikinis. It is this same society that acts shocked when the very sexuality we’ve encouraged this entire time starts parading on a stage.
Face it, you clueless sex-fiends, we’ve been pining for this ever since Madonna started singing “Like a Virgin” in un-virgin outfits. If we had the ability, we would have danced just like Miley Cyrus at our senior prom.
“How did Miley Cyrus end up this way?” an admonished Facebook friend asked in what I can only presume to be self-righteous judgment. Well, she grew up making a livelihood in pop culture, which demands you conform yourself to whatever mold most pleases and entertains the largest segment of society. How do you think she ended up this way?
In a completely appropriate metaphorical sense, it was you grinding up against Beetlejuice during MTV’s 2013 Video Music Awards.
Listen, I have no qualms against the increased presence of sex in our society, nor am I one to commonly argue the consistent objectification of women as our greatest social ill. But please, let’s not act shocked and offended. This is what you pay for, and this is what you support.
After all, I haven’t heard anyone complain about Lady Gaga’s bikini-thong yet, but she’s not quite a teenage girl. Besides, that’s just evolved to artistic expression, hasn’t it?