Here’s how Miley Cyrus decides what to do next. First, she imagines her presumed dead father just returned home after many years and killed her mom’s lover. Then she smokes salvia until the overture to Tommy stops playing over and over again in her brain. Wing-bang-boom, next thing you know, you’re grinding your spastic tom-boy vagina on a costumed bird in Vegas. It’s just a spin of the wheel really as to where Miley will land next.
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