Earlier this week, my beloved Miley “Molly” Cyrus made yet another foray into the impolitic.
Talking to the website Hunger, the singer argued that those adults who deem her gyrations too sultry and her music too saccharine were simply too ancient—and Jewish—to get it.
“With magazines, with movies, it’s always weird when things are targeted for young people yet they’re driven by people that are like 40 years too old,” Cyrus opined. And one group stands out in Miley’s mind as deserving of most of the blame: “It can’t be like this 70-year-old Jewish man that doesn’t leave his desk all day, telling me what the clubs want to hear.”
How to respond to such dross? One way, of course, is not to: Ever since she decided to shed the mantle of wholesome Disney star, Cyrus’ career has been a succession of depth charges, each designed to trouble the surface of popular culture. At 15, she disrobed for Annie Leibovitz; at 16, she pole-danced at the Teen Choice Awards; at 17, she posed with a bong. Whatever else she is—a reasonably talented singer, a canny careerist, a rowdy performer—Cyrus is also, perhaps primarily, a scandal-driven PR machine. And as history teaches us—look under Sheen, Charlie—the only way to stop those is to simply look away.
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