So, despite our fears that we're prematurely crotchety, it turns out we're not changing our byline to "The Fug Crones" just yet. (Emphasis on YET.) While everyone else in the world seems to be freaking out about spying Miley Cyrus's bared back on the cover of Vanity Fair, we're left scratching our heads and yawning and wishing everyone would just relax, already. For one thing, this is totally a teen-dream rite of passage --I mean, Britney wrote a whole SONG about being not a girl, not yet a woman, AND wore her panties on Rolling Stone -- but for another, compared with what's come before Miley, is this picture really so scandalous?
A simple backless portrait taken in the presence of her parents or minders by a respected female photographer -- without a single nip slip or sultry licked lip in sight -- is practically a Puritanical achievement [by Young Hollywood standards]. Plus, Miley herself isn't pregnant, smoking crack, tattooing the name of an unwashed rock-star boyfriend on her boob, or licking bananas at a lad-mag-sponsored shindig. The public freak-out just doesn't fit the crime.
If you want to read our full defense of Miley, then browse on over to the full article: "Calm Down, Everyone: Miley's Just Following The Script."
