Miley Cyrus danced next to a pole.

She did not “pole dance”. Pole dancing is this:

Not this:

That, in effect, is holding onto a pole and trying to dance while in high heels and trying to keep your balance while said cart is moving. Not pole dancing. If that is pole dancing, then every little kid who has ever spun around a pole on a playground is in effect also pole dancing. And as for the outfit, I see people wear far most on your average super hot super humid day in Montgomery County, Maryland.

In of itself, this isn’t a huge, earth-shattering deal–there hasn’t been a lot of coverage of it and I don’t hink anyone particularly cares, except that small-but-vocal minority of parents who think that Miley Cyrus hopping on an ice cream cart and dancing next to a pole is cause for World War 3, because Miley Cyrus is a role model to bazillions of little girls.

Can I just say that I think it’s weird that parents openly accept pop stars as role models? Not saying that I’ll be any ifferent, but whatever happened to giving your child real role models. Miley Cyrus is a sixteen year old girl. Sixteen. That is a monumental amount of pressure to put on a sixteen year old girl, to essentially say that you and you alone have to represent the perfect ideal woman that gazillions of little girls need to aspire to be.

What happened to making girls aspire to be doctors and astronauts or other things? I mean, I’m not knocking Miley Cyrus. I am nothing if not a huge Disney, ginormous, grotesque Disney nerd. Half my weeknights are spent watching Hannah Montana, I set my Sundays around watching Hannah Montana, Wizards of Waverly Place and Sonny With A Chance, I have watched the occasionaly episode of JONAS and I scold myself when I miss The Suite Life On Deck.

If your wondering how I can watch all these shows and not be a.) 12 or b.) gay, I have asked myself the same question. I do not have an answer.

The pressure has to be insane when you’re that young and seemingly have the entire world on your shoulders, and then when you do something seemingly innocuos and that your parents sign off on and then you have an assclown like Bill O’Reily asking you whether you’re a role model or not just because your bra happened to show a little bit.

Part of the reason that Elvis Presley, Michael Jackson and Britney Spears are such tragic figures is because they have had tremendous amounts of pressure put on them, and have always been lightning rods for controversy, and were never really allowed to be human. These people’s every move was scrutinized; when they finally snapped, they were plunged into even more scrutiny, and the controversy builds and builds. In the case of Elvis and Michael Jackson, when it seemed they were poised for the comebacks and somewhat redeem themselves, they passed away. Britney Spears seemingly teeters on the edge of quasi-normalcy and total insanity and changes from day to day.

In general, we as a society do put a little bit too much stock in false idols, and when they don’t live up to the lavish expectations we have for them, we tend to rally the mobds and the pitchforks ready to strike them down with great vengeance and furious anger.

My point? The girl is SIXTEEN. Let her be sixteen. The last thing I want to do is in ten years be going “wow, that Miley Cyrus used to be so innocent before she got a picture of the flaming pentagram tattooed on her forehead”.

It’s not all bad though–all this “MILEY POLE DANCES!” non-sense has spurred on my latest novel, which I’ll work on until another idea calls me, or until one of my old ideas screams “HEY, PAY ATTENTION TO ME!“.

KC