I do not, even a little bit, support Miley Cyrus. Chick bugs me. And I can vividly recall the first time I saw an ad for Hannah Montana thinking to myself, "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."
Yet I watched in astonishment as the years passed and she took over popular culture.
Kindergartners insisted on watching and re-watching every episode of the silly "drama" and their parents dished out obscene amounts of money on shameless marketing ploys -- t-shirts, backpacks, coloring books, oh my!
Still, she tickled my memory evoking images of the innocent pop sensation of my own youth, Britney Spears. I could see myself at seven giggling with my own friends on the playground and making up dances to her earliest hits.
We all know how her story has turned out.
So it baffled me that these good mothers and fathers that I so respected could not, or perhaps would not, acknowledge that path their daughters' icon was heading down.
At eighteen, Miley has already racked up a hefty laundry list of tabloid fodder, and from where I'm sitting, her ways don't seem to be shifting in the direction of a stable, well grounded adult.
Let me assure the absolute last thing I ever thought I'd be discussing on this blob would be the talentless teen queen.
But if you've stuck with me thus far, here's my reason for bring the whole thing up.
The GQ interview by Chris Heath with Miley's father, Billy Ray, is raw, honest, and strangely thought provoking. But most of all it is so. well. written. And as a writer, I appreciate it when I come across something in the media that makes me sit back with a shaking head and deep rooted admiration. Trust me when I tell you it doesn't happen often, in fact, hardly at all.
But regardless of how you feel about the Miley franchise, I strongly encourage you took sit down with a cup of tea and take a bit of time to not only relish is some truly masterful wordsmithing, but also to see into the heart of a unique, and contradictory man. One that I can't exactly say I've gained any admiration for, but rather a respectful recognition of his shocking complexity.
Just to tease your interest, here's a brief clip:
He has a favorite chair at the circular wooden table in the modest kitchen of his Tennessee mansion where he spends much of his time, and he prefers it here with the lights out. When I first arrive he makes me a cup of tea in the microwave, and we face each other as people generally do, fully illuminated, but after a while he asks me whether I'd mind. He flicks a switch behind him, and sinks into shadow...
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