An Open Letter To Miley Cyrus

Dearest Miley,

Oh dear.

I know we don’t know each other, but I speak for both your hair follicles and myself when I say, NO! NO! PLEASE NO! MAKE IT STOP!  Put the scissors down, save the bleach for your whites, and for the love of God, stop borrowing Liam’s electric razor!  You’ve gone too far, and I’ve seen enough episodes of My Strange Addiction to know that you likely have a problem, a buzz-cut problem.  Yeah, I know, Demi did it for G.I. Jane, but I’m confident that you are not in the running for an Oscar-winning role as an ass-kicking military woman.  In fact, you’ve now limited your possible casting calls to movies about punk lesbian chipmunks who fell in a bucket of bleach… and no one wants to watch that movie.

The woman’s face on the left says it best…

And lets talk logistics here for a sec, Miley. You’re engaged, you’re getting married in the near future (depending on which tabloid you read) and at this point, only Michelle Duggar’s wedding dress would cover your never ending supply of tats.  I don’t even want to imagine the itch situation that would fester on that scrappily sheared head of yours once you slap a veil on that sucker.  You managed to nab a handsome guy with an accent and he put a giant rock on it, now its up to you to keep him around.  So Miley, please grow some hair, take out the nose ring, stop dressing like Tank Girl and let’s party in the U.S.A. again.

Your Devoted Fan,


P.S. If you need a way to kill time and calories on Thanksgiving, learn this dance #guiltypleasure


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