I’m supposed to dislike Miley Cyrus.
I know this because she appeared on some award show on Sunday night and by Monday everyone was saying I should dislike her.
Actually, by Sunday night, those who had watched in New York were already madly tweeting like Jesus clearing the temple of tradesmen.
They were Oh-My-Godding and Bless-My-Souling as if she’d stripped off to her underwear on national television.
Which, actually, she had.
But not to the point of distaste. Just to the point of “Oh, you’re 20 and you’d like us to think you’re sexy, I see.”