Because we’re still treating that VMAs twerking shit like it’s the only thing that has ever happened in the history of the Earth (yes, I’m guilty and will punish myself by watching it again in slow motion while sober), The Mighty Oprah asked Alan Thicke’s son about it during Sunday’s episode of Oprah’s Next Chapter. Even though there were rehearsals and Robin Thicke obviously knew that Miley’s Amber Alert ass was going to rub up against his crotch, he played innocent and said that he wasn’t really paying attention to her during their performance.
“That’s all on her. People ask me, ‘Do you twerk?’ I’m like, ‘Listen, I’m the twerkee. I’m twerked upon. I don’t twerk myself, okay? I’m just twerked upon.’
I was on stage. I didn’t see it. So to me, I’m walking out towards Miley [and] I’m not thinking sex. I’m thinking fun, you know? I mean her and I don’t have that kind of – You have to remember, I’m singing my butt off. I’m sitting there. I’m looking up at the sky, and I’m not really paying attention to all that.”
The inside of Robin Thicke’s head probably looks a lot like my browser history: porn, porn, porn, porn, porn, porn, puppy videos, porn, porn, porn, porn, directions to nearest Del Taco, porn, porn, porn. Replace “puppy videos” and “directions to nearest Del Taco” with “Adult Friend Finder” and “70spimpsuits.com,” and that’s exactly what the inside of Robin Thicke’s head looks like. So he’s full of shit for saying that he wasn’t thinking about sex while singing a song about sex, because he’s always thinking about sex. Robin’s crotch was to Miley Cyrus’ ass as Janet Jackson’s nipple was to Justin Timberlake’s paw. That fuckery train had two conductors.
And I’m not going to watch Oprah’s Next Chapter on Sunday, because I love my TV too much and I’d have to take a sledgehammer to it if Oprah attempted to twerk on Robin’s crotch.
Here’s Robin doing an impersonation of all of the Nymphomaniac posters while performing in Liverpool last night.