Oh, Miley. Or, as your parents first named their tiny non-twerking infant, Destiny Hope. Perhaps they were Hoping that your Destiny would not be introducing millions to the term “rimming.”
I know that many of you reading this have not been brave enough to google “rimming,” but I’m kind of a public servant, so I did, and I’ll just tell you that it involves tongues and butts. That’s really all you need to know. It’s a popular canine practice.
ALSO! I investigated “twerking!” And you will not believe this, but I am possibly the first person to recognize that MILEY CYRUS WAS NOT TWERKING AFTER ALL! She wasn’t! Because twerking is an actual dance move, and is established enough that the term is a real word that’s been added to the Oxford Dictionary, which gives this whole blog post a literary component. (WHEEE!)
If you’re prurient enough to watch the entire VMA video, when you get to the part where rappers 2 Chainz and Kendrick Lamar strut out with a bunch of real dancers, then you’ll see real twerking, which involves rump-thrusting rhythmic dance moves.
What Miley did, by contrast, was more like bending over for a prostate exam. While wearing a foam finger! Sort of like having a prostate exam while cheering at a sporting event, maybe? NOTE TO MEN: Is that how it’s done?
Also, what’s with her tongue? It’s, like, two feet long, so I can see why the whole rimming thing might be interesting to her, but DANG, little sister, somebody’s gonna step on that thing unless you keep it in your mouth.
I’m going to switch gears now and tell you a story. When I was in my early 20s, I was in a star-crossed relationship, meaning I totally had the hots for this guy who ditched me. One night I showed up at his house unexpectedly, and he had company, which is a euphemism for “girl not entirely clothed.”
Well. That broke my achy breaky heart. (Get it? Get it? HAHAHAHA! Holy Mullet, he’s the genesis of this whole conversation.) So I went to a bar where some of my old buddies were hanging out, and we drank enough to enter an alternate universe. By the end of the night – the early parts of the morning? – my girlfriend and I were dancing on the bar in various states of dress and/or undress. I might have been twerking! Fortunately, there’s no way of knowing because Al Gore had not yet invented the Internet. I definitely wasn’t rimming. Because I’d remember that. Right? Say right. Oh, god.
Wait. Where was I. OH! MILEY! Listen, Miley Cyrus is a stupid kid caught up in a bonanza of wealth, power, and attention. She will probably look back on this performance one day and cringe. Or maybe she’ll just smile as she counts her piles of money.
Either way, stop hating on her. If you’re really enraged, talk smack about Mtv, whose producers evidently did some metaphorical rimming when they let this little starlet throw such strangely asexual raunch up on stage.
The Diva, who’s not quite 12, didn’t see the dance, so I actually showed it to her via YouTube. Because that’s the kind of mom I am. And you know what she said?
“Wow. What happened to her? She used to be so good.”
That’s all. Then she went into her room and finished her homework. (HELLS TO THE YES, I love that girl.)
Miley Cyrus isn’t destroying our youth, nor indicative of the end of civilization. Let’s remember that the Romans let lions eat people for entertainment purposes, and civilization has continued to (somewhat) thrive for the past, oh, 2,000 years or so.
The whole Miley Cyrus episode, to me, was nothing more than a comic diversion, and one I desperately needed, because my head was reeling with the images of tiny, lifeless Syrian children, their lungs paralyzed by nerve gas, dead in the arms of their dying, gasping parents. Damn, still thinking about that.