A Letter to Miley Cyrus



Dear Miley,

We’re writing to you to express our concern for your recent career decisions – and to ask you to make some changes. Please understand that we are just looking out for your best interests. We wish you the best of luck as you descend into a certain spiral of unavoidable doom.

1) Stop Making Music

Your music used to target the young female demographic. It was designed for young ladies looking for some mom-friendly tunes to jam-out to on the way to 6th grade. These were young ladies who bought your music, because they had been fans of your TV show, “Hannah Montana.” (Remember, the one your dad got you?) Now, it seems, your “music” is geared towards sad, dirty, drugged-out teddy bears… and people who don’t have ears… or eyes… or taste.

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2) Call Billy Ray

Miley… call your dad. Apologize. He stuck his neck out for you to enter the world of entertainment, and this is how you repay him? Your dad wrote “Achy Breakey Heart” … you are tarnishing his prestigious spot in music culture! It’s obvious you’re going through some sort of manic episode, but every gal needs her dad’s support. Put your clothes back on, get on Twitter, or Instagram, or whatever famous people use to communicate, and send him a picture of you NOT twerking. That would be a great starting point.

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3) Keep Your Tongue in Your Mouth

We get it. You’re grown up. You want to express the freedom you’re feeling after leaving the Disney Channel. Go for it, but wagging your tongue at every waking moment isn’t behavior becoming of a young lady such as yourself. It’s not attractive. It’s actually super gross. Your tongue is white… meaning you are probably not getting enough water. Grab some Fiji water, or Smart Water, or whatever famous people hydrate with and take a night off from being disgusting. Try Netflix. Watch something wholesome. How about some “Hannah Montana” episodes?

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Miley, please consider these options for your well-being. We’re worried about you.

Juicy J and French Montana are shady characters – find some female friends your own age. Lose the gold teeth. Keep that dried-up looking Jabba the Hut tongue away from America’s youth. Put some damn clothes on. Call Billy Ray. (You’re breaking his heart… which we already know has a history of severe aching.) And for the love of all things holy… stop making music.

Best Wishes,

The Blue Ox Jerky Co.



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