My brain will soon be mush, and I will be in a hospital bed next to my five-year-old, who is recovering beautifully from brain surgery. He will grow into a handsome, productive man who will forever be burdened with his mother, a vegetable. Yes, it is true, my days of lucidity are numbered. I soon will be rendered completely brain dead from listening to excessive amounts of Miley Cyrus. If overexposure to crappy music can kill? I am a goner.
"...I got my hands up/They're playin my song/I know I'm gonna be ok/Yeah, It's a party in the USA/Yeah, It's a party in the USA." Up and down the hallway five times a day, a physical therapist cheerfully dances along the rehabilitation wing of a leading pediatric hospital. Behind her follows a chubby fourteen year old girl, who is recovering from traumatic brain injuries and is learning how to walk, talk and eat again. I know I should be supportive and sympathetic and encouraging of a young girl trying to regain her independence. But, I simply cannot muster up compassion while I am watching brownish-orange wax drip on my hand as my ears slowly decompose bit by bit.
If the girl was one of my library patrons, I would gleefully give her more Miley Cyrus, Stephenie Meyer, Erin Hunter and Jeff Kinney than her feeble arms could hold. By trade, I am media crap facilitator. With no questions, no judgment and a big smile, I give the masses a rubbish they desire. I hand out Twilight the way relief workers in third world countries hand out rice and Penicillin. But, I am at the hospital not the library, so I am under no professional obligation to hold up Intellectual Freedom in cases where listening to atrocious music can result in the diminishment of brain cells.
There are times where censorship is a necessary evil. Time to call in Tipper Gore and the Parents Music Resource Center (PMRC). Tipper, where are you when I need you? You've been dumped. Al has no use for you, so please be useful to me. Go on Oprah, mention the pole dancing incidents at Miley Cyrus concerts and demand that parents confiscate everything Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus related. Do exactly what you did in 1984 when you appeared on Donahue and convinced my mother to take Purple Rain and 1999 away from me. In my case, the moratorium only lasted for a day, but I will never get back those lost 12 to 14 hours of listening pleasure. So, you owe me, Tipper. Time to make it right. Nikki masturbating with a magazine hurts no one. Music from a singer with too many raisins stuck up her nose causes brain cells to be lost permanently. Please help me save lives, Tipper. Twenty-five years ago, you and your censorship brigade managed to get the "Parental Advisory: Explicit Content" label. Now I am asking for to seek the warning message: "If You Buy a Miley Cyrus Album: You Will Wish Your Brain Damage Resulted from Crack Cocaine Usage Instead."
Just one small favor, Tipper, for the betterment of humankind.
