Mexico might (read: probably not) do what other countries should’ve done a long time ago: Throw Miley Cyrus in jail!
During a show in Monterrey, Mexico on Tuesday night (which was Mexican Independence Day), Miley put on a ridiculous fake ass (in her defense, it looks more natural than Kim Kartrashian’s ass) and as she twerked for the audience, one of her dancers spanked her with the Mexican flag. To quote my abuelita when she’s in the company of children, “COCHINA!” To also quote my abuelita when she’s not in the company of children, “Pinche pendeja!” The Mexican flag butt whipping starts at around the 2:20 mark in the video below and to those who have said that Miley needs a serious ass whoopin, I don’t think this is what you had in mind:
The Mexican government is serious about their flag, so they’re not happy about this. There’s a law in Mehico stating that any trick who disrespects their flag may be fined or jailed. (I may or may not typed that sentence while wearing an ass-less Mexican flag Speedo.) Reuters says that the Nuevo Leon state legislature is coming after Miley and wants to spank her fake ass with either jail time or a fine. The stage legislature approved a warrant for Interior Ministry to enforce the flag law on Miley. Miley or her people could be fined up to $1,200 or they could be jailed for 36 hours. In 2008, Paulina Rubio was fined after she posed with the Mexican flag over her naked body.
Screw the fine, jail that hillbilly piece of basuda! If you’re thinking to yourself that Miley’s dancer should face punishment since he’s the one who spanked her with the flag, then you need to blow the cum dust out of your contacts, because that’s not what I’m seeing. Miley is OBVIOUSLY “twerking” into that flag, so she’s the one who committed the crime (just go with it). At the very least, Mexican officials should unleash Mexican novella queen Soraya Montenegro on Miley. In this GIF the role of Soraya Montenegro will be played by Soraya Montenegro and the role of Miley will be played by that girl in the wheelchair (Side note: Soraya IS Kanye’s hero):
LAAAAAAAAAAAAARGATE de aqui, Miley!
The face of the art world is about to get covered with a load of sticky, pineapple-infused cum and surprisingly enough, it’s not going to come from James Franco’s mouth. Franco, Lady CaCa, Joaquin Phoenix, Shia LaBeouf and Jay-Z can all eject themselves out of the art world, because a new challenger has arrived. Moonshine’s answer to Jeff Koons made a collection of sculptures (read: bitch didn’t make shit on her own) using crap and junk she’s collected from fans and airport stores during her tour. Miley Cyrus is going to debut her sculptures at V Magazine’s office gallery in Manhattan tomorrow. One of Miley’s cracked out “sculptures” is a pineapple and she tells V (via Jezebel, or in this case we should call it Jizzebel) that she created it after being inspired by yummy cum.
“This one’s a vibrator, which I got from a fan. They threw it on stage. And that’s a joint [attached to it], so that’s the vibe. I’ve gotten more and more about piling things on, but I try to put thought into everything. Even though it’s so stupid, I did the pineapple because you know what they say about pineapple, right? Yummy cum? If you drink a lot of pineapple juice you’re going to have yummy cum. So that’s why I put it on the dick with a bunch of babies, and it says, “Fuck.” I try to think about everything so it has a story to me.”
Seen here looking like a Hugga Bunch hitting puberty and rolling hard after trading hugs for bath salts, Miley Cyrus attended a super-secret party thrown by fashion designer Alexander Wang this weekend and as per usual she was in top amateur hillbilly stripper chipmunk form. I guess the dress code was “DRUGZ”, because Miley showed up wearing nothing but black leggings and pasties covering her backwoods nipple jerky. Oh, and a pair of sunglasses covered in pills and a pair of weed earrings, because why the hell not. Pills and weed? PAAAR-TAAAAY.
But just like the old saying goes: “You’re never fully dressed without a smile“, Miley made sure to accessorize her look with a beautiful high-as-fuck smile. Miley looks so stoned, I bet the she thought that dude she was standing beside was Prince. And that Prince-looking dude looks so high, I bet he was convinced he WAS Prince. He probably got up this morning and went door-to-door with a bunch of copies of The Watchtower asking people if they had time to talk about Jesus Christ.
Thankfully Miley managed to keep her pasties firmly affixed to her chipmunk nips, because nobody wants to see a topless tweaker. But she did try to tongue-fuck the host, because even though she’s dressed modestly don’t mean she ain’t not a raunchy horn-horn rodent, y’all!
Here’s more of Miley arriving at her hotel before the party and wearing actual clothes, as well as Miley on her way to Alexander Wang’s party. My say something nice is that Miley reminds me of this crazy blonde raver in my 11th grade science class who tried to get high by burning clumps of her hair over a bunsen burner and breathing in the smoke. I wonder what she’s up to now? Yeah, maybe it’s best if I don’t know.
Excuse me a moment, I just got severely second-hand high from this picture and I need to lay down. Also, is it just me, or is that hot dog cowboy kind of handsome? Hold on I’m totally going to try to get his number.
Miley Cyrus, the perpetually-stoned teenage burnout who used to sniff glue while listening to Phish’s Rift on a Sony Walkman every day in your 10th grade art class, told Australia’s Sunday Night (via The Guardian) that she thinks y’all should just calm the frig down about her constantly shoving marijuana into her mouth hole, because it’s causing her less harm that reading the shit people write about her online. When asked if she thinks smoking as much good shit as she does will someday rot what’s left of the lukewarm bag of Frito pie she calls a brain, Miley responded:
“You know what hurts your brain? Googling yourself. You know what hurts your brain? Instagram. You know what hurts your brain? Reading comments on Facebook. You know what hurts your brain? Reading US Weekly.”
One time I smoked way too much salvia and had convinced myself I’d time-traveled back to a newsroom in 1976 (I might have had a Mary Tyler Moore Show drug trip? Good lord, even my drug trips are lame) and that was the single most fucked up I’ve ever been in my life. When I came to, I was shaking my friend by the shoulder and begging him to tell me what year it was. But time-travel hallucinations are nothing compared to reading the next-level incoherant comments on Instagram. I’m no Bill Nye, but I’m sure that reading word garbage like “U dat uglee THOT bitch i kno u izz TRICKY HO DONT LIE” and “@Beyonce my queen plz check out my cousin she is a stylist who is really much good and talent @Beyonce u shoudl hire her!!!” kills at least 8 times as many brain cells as smoking weed. I feel like that’s why people get hooked on meth; they’re like “Fuck all this reading, just let me smoke the crazy and save myself some time.”
Amateur hillbilly stripper chipmunk Miley Cyrus is on the cover of V Magazine’s “Rebel Issue”, which sort of makes sense, since she’s damn near re-wrote every chapter in the book of Former Disney Ho Rebellion. Slutty shower pics? Check. Smoking drugs? Check. Humping everything that moves? Check. More drugs? Oh, you betcha. The issue doesn’t come out until September 10th, but V Magazine decided to tease the cover a little early, because who wouldn’t want to see Miley laying on a pile of stuffed animals dressed like Beast Man’s skanky glue-sniffing half-sister?
But who’s responsible for this busted bowling alley claw game mess? Why that would be kunty tastemaker Karl Lagerfeld. Karl shot Miley and her Muppet fur-covered pork rinds for the cover, and it’s actually not the worst. Sure, it kind of looks like she’s posing for a sleazy ad that would run in the back pages of Sesame Street’s weekly free newspaper and, sure, that shark is giving “Help Me” eyes, but at least he managed to keep her clothes on, right?
Oh, for fucks sakes! As usual, I spoke too soon. It appears that Karl Lagerfeld also took a picture of Miley reaching for a slice of poontang pie with her backwoods pudding balloons out, because of course he did! It probably wasn’t even his choice! I bet Karl was all ready to pack up his shit when a naked-ass Miley lept in front of the door like a freon-huffing gazelle and hollered “Where do you think you’re going, Gay Dracula? We ain’t even done no nudes yet!”. Meanwhile, cut to that pile of stuffed animals all silently wishing for the incinerator from Toy Story 3.
Last night the VMA for video of the year went to Towelie’s hillbilly human cousin Miley Cyrus and her video for “Wrecking Ball”, but instead of calling professional creepy uncle Terry Richardson up on stage to say thanks for directing her to hump on the chain of a wrecking ball in her hillbilly birthday suit (ie. naked + work boots) and giving the entire audience a major case of the not-rights, Miley stayed seated and gave up her acceptance speech to a formerly-homeless dude named Jesse, who used his time on stage to bring awareness to the 54,000 homeless people in Los Angeles.
Jesse (who kind of looks like a hot Chad Kroeger)(that might have been the most unintentionally insulting thing I’ve ever said, I’m sorry Jesse) then urged Miley’s fans to visit her Facebook page to donate money to a homeless outreach called My Friend’s Place. All of it made Miley so overcome with e-mo-shun that she weeped chipmunk tears of joy, and the appearance of tears usually mean the VMAs were experiencing a ~deep~ moment, which means those klassless Kardashian hookers were probably Instagramming selfies of their tits and asking “Ew, what’s a homeless??”
But Miley’s philanthropy didn’t stop there. Earlier in the evening on the red carpet, Miley admitted that you’ll never have to reach for the brain bleach ever again, because she’s putting her canned chicken ass back in the can and retired from twerking. Miley admitted that after seeing Nicki Minaj’s glorious picnic jello salad ass destroy twerking in the video for “Anaconda”, she knew that bouncing her bony backwoods butt in a pair of butterscotch Pudding Roll-Ups underpants just wasn’t going to cut it anymore. Not to mention that her rancid mange-covered tongue only made but a brief appearance on the red carpet, AND she kept her possum-with-alopecia pussy and redneck nips covered? Miley is truly working on a whole ‘nother level of humanitarianism.
Miley Cyrus said goodbye to her Alaskan Klee Kai Floyd back in April, and ever since then she has worked tirelessly to find new and more creative ways to make sure the leg-humping legacy of Floyd lives on. The most recent way she’s chosen to honor his memory is with a five-foot-tall light-up bong covered in bracelets, beads, flowers, dinosaurs, ribbons, crap, shit, trash, garbage, crap, crap, and more crap. There is so much crap on this bong. Floyd must have been a next-level hoarder.
Even though it looks like every piece of plastic crap from here to Pluto has been used to decorate Floyd’s memorial bong, Miley says it’s not quite finished yet. But the cooter-popping hillbilly chipmunk princess was so proud of her “werk in progress” that she decided to post several pics to Instagram yesterday regardless of how unfinished it was. Miley says that Floyd’s memorial bong has been a collaboration between her fans, who have made her bracelets that spell out messages like YUCK, WEED, TWERK, and DRUGZ. Josh Groban just got really nervous, because he knows that funeral homes everywhere just threw out all their Josh Groban CDs and replaced them with a bong that says DRUGZ. Nothing is more comforting during a moment of quiet reflection than a bong that says DRUGZ.
If only we knew what Floyd thought of his memorial bong. I know he’d be glad Miley is still smoking obscene amounts of drugs (that’s a given) but I feel like he might turn his nose up at how crafternoon delight it is. That bong looks like Hobby Lobby barfed on a Christian Bible Camp. There are SO MANY DAMN BEADS. Plus there’s not a single sticker with a picture of a stoned cartoon alien holding a joint saying “Take me to your dealer”. Come on Miley, it’s not a crap-covered bong without a weed alien!
Dear Lobby of a NYC Hotel, feel our pain, because not many moments go by when Miley Cyrus isn’t terrorizing our retinas with the image of cooter abuse by flashing her hairless Nolichucky River beaver as it gasps for air while getting suffocated by her leotard.
Life & Style says that the spawn of Billy Ray Cyrus and a happy-go-lucky anime horse recently made a stop in NYC on her Bangerz world tour and the guests of the hotel she stayed in got a giant, sticky serving of her insufferableness. An “insider” tells Life & Style that Miley and her crew of hangers-on stayed at The Greenwich Hotel and they didn’t keep their foolery contained in their room. The foolery spilled out into the lobby and they tore the place apart. THEY WERE SMOKING POT! The “insider” said this:
“It was like a tornado hit the lobby. Miley and her posse took over, screaming and carrying on so much that management received a number of complaints. It was the kind of bad behavior you’d expect from a bunch of juvenile delinquents.”
Was my Catholic catechism teacher Life & Style’s “insider,” because she’s the only human alive I know who uses phrases like “juvenile delinquents.” Did the “insider” also say in a whispered voice (so that God’s ears couldn’t hear her), “They were also smoking that marry-juh-wan-uh.” The inside source was Mink Stole’s Serial Mom character, basically.
The source said that when management asked Miley if she could turn down the fuckery, she flipped out and channeled her beaver twin Justin Bieber:
“She started screaming at them and saying that she’s spent so much money there that they should be glad to have her. She basically threw a tantrum and acted like a spoiled brat.”
Management handled it all wrong. When a rabid, trailer trash, methed-out beaver comes into your space, you’re not supposed to try to reason with it, because it will violently twerk on you and then you’ll end up in the ER with a serious rabies infection. What you’re supposed to do is calmly place a blunt in front of it and as it chews on the edges of that blunt, you drop a net over it and call its wrangler (read: Billy Ray). If you don’t have a blunt, push one of those doggy sex toys in front of it and call its wrangler while it humps away.
And since we’re on the subject of Cyruses bringing terror upon the public, here’s Trace Cyrus and his band Metro Station, wreaking havoc on your ears with their new song and video. It’s like a Good Charlotte abortion.
On a positive note, unlike his piece of trash sister who doesn’t know how to act right in public, Trace is very well-mannered and well-behaved. I mean, have you ever seen a wild Emo horse sit so gentlemanly-like on a sofa?
Here’s Miley, her assistant Cheyne and one of her dogs leaving The Greenwich Hotel after almost destroying it.
Even though Miley Cyrus is a former A-list Disney child star turned current world-touring drug-gobbling coochie-poppin millionaire, and the daughter of a cultural icon (I’m of course referring to horse-faced hyacinth blossom Tish Cyrus), she’s always more than happy to remind us that she’s just a G-droppin’ banjo-pickin’ chicken-fried Mountain Dew-dipped down-home hillbilly river rat at heart. This weekend, Miley attended a hillbilly hootenanny in the woods with her ol’ pal (literally, too old to be hanging out with her ass) Wayne Coyne of the Flaming Lips where they dressed up like meth-smoking hicks and got drunk on moonshine. And of course, Miley made sure to Instagram all of it, including a picture of her pissing on a tree. Thank god! I’ve always been curious about what the glue-huffing dirtbag teenage son of the Blair Witch looked like.
But Miley’s “Ah is so cuntry, y’all!” act didn’t end with marking her territory against an oak tree in a pair of cut-offs. No, Miley managed to one-up her own faux-hillbilly self by adopting a pet pig that she named Bubba Sue. »
Here’s more proof that bad things happen when Miley Cyrus and Wayne Coyne from The Flaming Lips get together.
I thought that Wayne Coyne getting a janky prison tattoo of Miley Cyrus’ dead dog inked into his flesh was the worst decision involving Miley that he’s ever made, but he proved me wrong with this way-too-long acid nightmare of a movie that melted parts of my brain about 15 seconds in. This is Nancy Reagan’s new favorite movie and she wishes it would’ve come out in the 80s, because it’s the perfect anti-drugs PSA.
The video, which The Flaming Lips call “Blonde SuperFreak Steals the Magic Brain” and Guantanamo Bay officials call “our new favorite torture device,” starts out with a rejected John Waters character stealing JFK’s brain (which has the formula for LSD in it) from a half-dead Miley. That first shot of a barely alive Miley drooling out foam is you while watching this video. Moby, who did himself like Pimp Mama Kris in her purest form, plays a cult leader who orders his minions, Lesbian Bigfoot and Nympho Manson Girl, to steal the glob of acid slime from Miley. Wayne described that mess like this to Rolling Stone:
“The video story is something like this: Moby is an evil, power-hungry cult leader. He wants the world’s most valuable (according to our story) psychedelic supernatural possession… John F. Kennedy’s brain….the brain contains the original formula for the drug LSD!!!
Miley Cyrus has the magic brain!!! And Moby enlists a nympho Manson girl-type blonde superfreak to go steel the brain from Cyrus.
She steals the brain from Cyrus while Cyrus is still in bed in a drug-induced coma. Cyrus finally wakes up and is mega-pissed that her BRAIN has been stolen. She enlists a burned-faced Santa and a lesbian Bigfoot ( that are hovering in a nearby spaceship) to hunt down the blond superfreak that stole her brain. They have a relentless pursuit, all the while Cyrus laments the loss of her magic brain and Moby gains powerful rainbows from hell. In the end, the blond superfreak kills Santa and Bigfoot and a baby mole ends up with the brain…”
The TL;DR version of Wayne Coyne’s description is: “I love drugs!”
This is something that a freshmen film major who thinks they’re the next David Lynch would make and edit while blindfolded and high on freon, because they really want to impress their professor James Franco.
If you really want to put your will to live to the test, watch the NSFWness below. If you make it past 10 seconds like I did, I’ll see you in the check-in area of Bellevue, because we obviously need serious help and shouldn’t be allowed to make decisions for ourselves.