It’s trendy to write in list form (i.e. “10 Things You Learn By Being A Slut in College” or something like that on BuzzFeed) and it’s trendy to be dry, witty, cynical, and funny. In other words, the Internet is experiencing the writing phenomenon I went through during the few months in which my OCD/anxiety peaked. This phenomenon includes the trendy way to tell someone to shut the f*** up in the most PC manner possible: by writing an “open letter.”
An open letter is exactly what it sounds like–a letter addressed to one person that everyone can read. Since we no longer believe in the Postal Service (deuces, Saturday mail), these letters are published digitally for all the world to see. The open letter is the over-exercised protest of the 21st century.
I’m sick of reading civilian pleas against the narcissism in our society, exemplified here on McSweeney’s nonfiction series of “Open Letters To People Or Entities Who Are Unlikely To Respond.” So, I threw together a little list of pitches for open letters we’d actually want to read.
Open Letter to: The People That Work At Chipotle
Subject: We need to discuss the guac sitch
Open Letter to: Lindsay Lohan
Subject: Don’t screw this one up, we are rooting for you
Open Letter to: Girl Sitting Next To Me On Airplane
Subject: Stop looking at my screen
Open Letter to: Chris Christie
Subject: No offense, but you couldn’t seriously have thought that causing a traffic jam would cause people to hate their mayor which would consequently cause you to win a presidential election
Open Letter to: Justin Bieber
Subject: How can you be wasting Grade A eggs if there are starving children in Africa?
Open Letter to: My Ancestors
Subject: My slow metabolism
Open Letter to: Cake
Subject: Your high calorie count
Open Letter to: Miley Cyrus
Subject: Twerk all you want but we want your bun back and we want it now
Open Letter to: Condé Nast
Subject: You closed your internship program, you crushed my dreams
Open Letter to: Hilary Duff
Subject: Sorry to hear about your divorce but it’s time to marry Gordo
Any ideas for open letters you’d want me to actually write? Let’s talk about it in the commentz.
Because you haven’t already read at least 50 strongly-worded articles about Miley Cyrus and her
shit show at the VMAs, I thought you should read one more.
Don’t get me wrong–if there is a Miley Cyrus fan, I am it. Although with the start of Hannah Montana the uniqueness of my name decreased by 200%, I didn’t hold a grudge. She took away my individuality, but I loved her through and through. When I decided to chop off my hair two years ago, I showed my hairdresser the photo of Miley when she went for the long bob. At the time, I didn’t realize that the haircut only looked good on skinny people. But ne’ertheless, I am #blessed to have shared a stage of beauty and fashion with Destiny Hope, the queen of legginess, crop tops, and now, plastic underwear.
I should not digress; we need to discuss this VMA performance.
First things first: on August 26th, Dave Stopera published an article on BuzzFeed titled “22 Things Miley Cyrus Looked Like At The 2013 VMAs.” This article was incredibly successful, with a total of over 3 million views since its release. I was loving every second of this article until I saw this blasphemy:
Then, my mood turned from “Robin Thicke getting twerked upon by Miley” to “Will Smith shielding the eyes of his young children while watching Robin Thicke get twerked upon by Miley” because obviously I MADE THIS CONNECTION WHEN I APPOINTED ANGELICA PICKLES (and Cynthia–who’s a really cool dancer–by association) AS FLAVOR OF THE WEEK.
Here’s my take on Miley’s stint at the VMAs: was it comparable to my experience watching Saving Silverman as a fourth grader in the same room as my teenaged babysitter? Yes. Did I love every minute of it? Yes. Miley looked like she was having the time of her life. Yeah, her tongue was out a lot. But if you look at my Facebook profile photos, it turns out that in about one-third of them, my tongue is out too. I think it’s just a girl thing, similar to feeling happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time. Right T. Swift?
Leave her alone–after all, she’s just being Miley.