Showing posts with label billyraycyrus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label billyraycyrus. Show all posts

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Don't Mess with the Mouse


A month ago, Billy Ray Cyrus told GQ Magazine that Disney’s Hannah Montana show was the poisoned apple that broke up his 17 year marriage and set his daughter Miley on the path to ruin.  “I'll tell you right now—the damn show destroyed my family.”

This week Billy Ray assured the Sympathy Sisters of The View that Hannah Montana had nothing to do with his family’s troubles.  “I love Hannah Montana!  I love Disney!  That didn’t tear my family apart,” he exclaimed somewhat frantically.

Obviously those thugs at Disney got to him.  Was it blackmail?  Did they send Vicki Lawrence in with a bat to bruise his kidneys?  However they did it, rest assured those fuckers will stop at nothing to protect their interests.  Which includes forcing Billy Ray to throw David Lynch under the bus (“I kind of blame it all on David Lynch”) while recanting his denunciation of Miley’s show.  The remark is indisputably the media Goliath’s first salvo in the battle to undermine critical reception of Lynch’s unauthorized Goofy bio-pic.



Heaven help this particular David—I don’t think a slingshot will be enough this time.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Achy Breaky Breakup

 
Billy Ray Cyrus.  First he was Mister Achy Breaky Heart, with the swiveling pelvis and in-your-face mullet to prove it.  Then nothing for a little while.  Then Doc Somebody in some obscure series on some obscure channel.  Then he re-fashioned himself as Hannah! Montana’s! Dad!

(Now instead of the mullet, it’s the soul patch.  What is it with this guy and hair fads?  I feel like he’s desperately trying to tell us he’s “not that kind of a country singer/Christian/family man.”  “No man, I’m cool!  I’m cool!”  You’re trying too hard, Billy Ray!  You should have just dropped the middle name when you graduated high school.  Like my cousins Bertha Rae and Lita Sue, who are now Rae and Lita, respectively.  I know changing your name seems like a big deal at the time, but believe me, in the long run it’s a lot easier and cheaper than trying to navigate your Insider/Outsider identity via your hairstyle.)

Emanating from this roller coaster of Billy Ray’s mediocrity has always been a suggestion of wholesomeness that refreshed those in need of refreshing wholesomeness. To the rest of us, it was just a sort of fuzzy blur in our peripheral vision.  In the sense that we wished the man no actual physical harm, in spite of the fact that he seemed to have overstayed his achy breaky welcome.

But there have been signs that all is not what it seems in Wholesomeville.  Remember Miley’s pole dance on top of an ice cream cart?  Miley’s provocative cell phone pics?  Miley’s "topless" Vanity Fair spread?  Sure, the girl still sings crappy pre-teen schlock.  But she’s got breasts, and she’s not afraid to use them.

(In the back of my mind, the Scissor Sisters are singing, “How do you stop a girl like Miley.”)

And then there’s Noah, about whom I can only say



Um . . .

So I think this is what split Tish and Billy Ray.  Tish wants the girls to Make It In The Business (note that Tish is the one out shopping with Miss Bra), and Billy Ray is trying to keep the family in that precarious but safe space between semi-obscure performer and sleazeball masturbation target.  Don’t expect things to get better once the divorce goes through.  Miley will be 18 soon, and is clearly ready to spread her . . . wings.  And Noah’s at that age where she’s certainly not going to listen to her conservative father, no matter what cool hairstyle he’s rocking.  That’s the great thing about divorce.  Nothing else quite matches it for helping an adolescent pit one parent against the other.

Oh, and, confidential to TheNewsofToday.com:  I don’t know who you are, but here’s a big FUCK YOU to for claiming that

When people think of country music, Billy Ray Cyrus is the first person that usually comes to mind. He is thought to have been the one that made country music as popular as it is today. 


That is utter bullshit, and I hope that Zombie Johnnie Cash invades your house and eats your brains for saying it.