A VIEW FROM THE TOP
Child porn nothing to sMiley about
DEARMiley Cyrus We get it: Hannah Montana is no more. You’ve shed the sweet-girl-next-door persona that projected you into the stratosphere of stardom and now want to be seen as an adult – and a highly sexualised one at that, apparently.
The increasingly skimpy (and distinctly vulgar) outfits, the perverse tongue that lolls out at every photo opportunity, the incessant (and embarrassing, given your poor execution thereof) twerking, the ’80s Madonna hairdo and your crass penchant for penis motifs – whether riding them, eating them in the guise of a birthday cake or even dressing up as one – has ensured your message has been heard across the continents, at full volume.
But the key memo you seem to have missed on your journey from child star to the proverbial age of consent, is that in order to be treated like an adult, acting like one is generally regarded as a prerequisite.
In keeping with a new selfimposed mandate, under normal circumstances, I would steer clear of affording your attention-seeking antics any further publicity (much less credence) by mere virtue of writing about them.
However, since you insist on continuing to pollute the planet with your particular brand of idiocy, surely you must understand there comes a point when even those with only a rudimentary grasp of propriety will inevitably begin to push back. And that point is now.
In a world increasingly battling the despicable scourge of child abuse, you deem it amusing to superimpose pictures of your adolescent and Hannah Montana self onto explicitly suggestive images. Including that of yourself as an infant, edited to look like a drugged out starlet “maxin’” (to use your description), naked, in a bathtub complete with disco balls for a bra.
And where (I dare say “former”) fans capable of actual thought have expressed their shock at your social media antics, still you have steadfastly and selfishly refused to remove these portraits that effectively serve to promote child pornography. Because the hype it garners you is of greater importance to your mercurial mind than the possibly devastating consequences of the message you’re so brazenly sending out.
Any adult would understand as much. But then, for all the red lipstick and “this is our house, this is our rules” brashness, behind it all, you’re still a little girl playing dressup.
What makes your transformation into ribaldry that much more pitiful is the fact that, where others have chosen this route because baring their bodies or behaving inappropriately is their only hope of achieving fame, you actually possess talent.
But now you’ve just become another cliché. One who has, indeed, come in like a wrecking ball.