No, you're not watching a high-end soft core pornographic film, but rather the latest video from America's sweetheart, Miley Cyrus. Some "stuffed shirts" are apparently sickened by Miley's latest display: the bed writhing, the limo lounging, the unisex dance floor grinding--disgusting! I think people are missing the most important issue in regards to "Who Owns My Heart": it's not a particularly good song. I've been a Miley defender in the past--and I'm not going to change my tune just because I've lost interest in her career--but even I cannot stand by this boring, awful song. "Who owns my heart?/Is it love or is it art?" What do those lyrics even mean? Is Cyrus, or rather Cyrus's song writing team, trying to equate Miley's musical output as "art" now? C'mon! Miley Cyrus songs are sugary trifles; pleasant pop with a beat you can't help tapping your foot to no matter how hard you try to stop; the musical equivalent of eating a cupcake while riding a rainbow-farting unicorn. I don't go to Hannah Montana for art. I go for a Lisa Frank Trapper Keeper come to life.
So, in the end, who is it that truly owns Miley's heart? I'll tell you one thing that clearly doesn't: pants.
