This has been the awesome-est week EVER, hasn’t it?

First, we had:

DMFRH 2013: Rise of the Swoaps

I have a thing for villains—that’s like the whole point of this blog. Picking them up, turning them in the light, shaking them until something falls out. That’s my thing. I thought I was focusing on pop culture references, fictional villains from comics and movies and books.

Then my villains became real.

I won’t rehash the thrilling details (one, because I said I wouldn’t; and two, because you can read all about it here) but our story began with shit-talking after my wife resigned and ended with the arrest of my arch-nemeses, Big John and Melanie “Bye Bitch!” Swoap, for theft and fraud and a bunch of other shit.

It was a fitting end to a funky little dispute and it made me smile. Just. Like This.

Then:

Crooked Letterz is TWO!

That’s right, this here blog had its second birthday. Yay! We had a bouncy house and two clowns and I gave it some mugshots as an awesome present. Then things got even better! That EPIC Conclusion post is the 200^th post on Crooked Letterz. That little post that could, filled to the brim with Law & Order intros and Puss in Boots Oooh Cats and Fox17 stories, was the highest viewed post in the history of this blog. It pushed me well over the 60,000 view mark (closer to 65,000 as of this writing), which is amazing for someone with a novel and dream. It was like sweeps week and I gave you the end of M*A*S*H. What’s M*A*S*H? Jesus—how about Cheers? No? Lost? Shit, fine—I gave you the end of Wizards of Waverly Place. How bout that? Young asses.

Miley Cyrus and the VMAs

Speaking of young asses, I saw the VMAs this Sunday. I saw Miley Cyrus twerking her long back on Robin Thicke just like you did. We watched as a family and I had one of those “Oh, THIS is what my parents must have felt like” moments. The Honey Badger was grossed out and confused. The Boy was both aroused and disgusted. My wife and I watched it like this:

That’s for my Breaking Bad fans.

Now you may recall that I wrote a lovely Leave Miley Alone post a bit ago. In it, I said she was just doing the stupid shit all 20-year-olds do, just her stage and opportunity was greatly increased due to her fame and finances. That was before I saw the VMAs.

Since that display of teddy bear-fueled ridicularity, I’ve gotten emails and texts, Facebook messages and inboxes about would I want my daughter to do that. Would I want her to emulate Miley? I’ve read open letters and twitter feeds, blog posts and news articles. And that all come the same conclusion: Miley Cyrus is a drug-addicted, sex-crazed heathen on the slippery slope to an overdose or death who is going to take our daughters with her.

But my opinion hasn’t changed.

I’m a product of the 80s. I grew up watching MTV. I remember when they actually played music on Music Television—kinda weird watching the Video Music Awards on a channel that doesn’t play music videos. But I digress. I remember the same articles and when Madonna performed Like A Virgin in a wedding dress. When Madonna and Britney and Christina Aguilera kissed on stage. When Elton John wore…well, ALL that crazy shit. When Lady Gaga wore a meat dress.

Christina got butt naked on her Stripped album cover. Britney shaved her head. Lindsay became a lesbian for 14 minutes, stole some jewelry and went to rehab. Demi Lovato went to a different kind of rehab. Kimberly from Diff’rent Strokes posed in Playboy and ended up dead. Todd Bridges and Danny Bonaduce became a drug addicts and recovered. Gary Coleman became a sued his parents and became a security guard. Elton John sang for Princess Diana’s funeral. Madonna got a British accent.

This shit with child stars is old. They go through this rebellious period where they lose their fucking minds publicly. Most of the time they survive it, sometimes they don’t. At this point, I can see the act a mile away. Miley is being stupid—some of it is for real, some of it is for show. You’re so caught up in her tongue sticking out, seeing her grind on Robin Thicke in his Foot Locker uniform that you forget the Hannah Montana bullshit. That is the point. Forget the Hannah Montana shit. She’ll do this nonsense for another year or so, release an “Oh, I found myself and my sanity” album, become a judge of the 18^th season of American Idol, and get a semi-serious movie role.

And the world will be right until Good Luck Charlie gets a belly piercing.

Oh, and I Got a Posting Schedule

That’s the last thing—and I’ll do it real quick because it’s getting longer. After 2 years and 200 posts, it’s a new day here at Crooked Letterz. What’s new, you ask? Regularity. Knowing what to expect. So here’s the deal: I’m gonna post here 2 times a week, on Tuesdays and Fridays. Tuesdays are kind of a free-for-all day: you’ll find DMFRHs, Suburdity, Things That Are Awesome (like this)—whatever comes to mind. Fridays will bring the villains back with the Friday Night Fiend. We’ll get back to all the things you know and love.

That’s my word.

Oh yeah, there’s one more thing that’s awesome: Me.

Catch ya Friday!