Including a secondary course on cultural appropriation, Miley Cyrus has given us a master class in millennial rebellion this summer. If you don’t mind, Cyrus is going to keep throwing up deuces, wagging her tongue, taking selfies and – depending on her mood – shaking and bending over her butt if the mood strikes. One twerk and innocence is lost forever is the lesson we’ve learned. It is a pipe dream in expecting her and her brethren, to falter in the face of criticism.
It seems like her generation won’t stop. They are coming in like wrecking balls, destroying the things that could kill their vibes before they even try, according to the performer. More than an actual wrecking ball, there is no better symbol for a wrecking ball, of course. Something’s made Cyrus sad, and she’s hired, Terry Richardson, the most provocative person in pop culture to bring her melancholy to life. It could be the final shackle to shake off for us to finally stop seeing her as the Disney she once was, while it doesn’t have the potential to resurrect her lost Vogue cover.