You would think as someone who is writing about the entertainment industry you would know what it means to be an employee of Disney. Miley’s parents did not rent out Disneyland for her birthday, Disney did. Billy-Ray did not insist on performing at this, Disney did. And The Cyrus’s did not decide to sell tickets to this, DISNEY DID. You fail to mention that Disney donated a million dollars to the charity Miley supports. and maybe you don’t know that Miley sends more money to charities every year than you will see in a life time. She just doesn’t brag about it like many people.

I also find it funny that they only quote you have in here is from another biased article. I’m assuming, Stuart, that this is what you do for a living, so i don’t find it hard to believe that you waste your time writing biased articles intended to attack a girl a fourth of your age. That’s just sad. But maybe in the future you could actually do what they would have taught you in college had you gone or payed any attention: At least SOUND educated on your topic.

Lastly, The Cyrus family is an amazing family and it’s unfortunate that people like you think they know them when all you know is what you read in other people’s articles, hear on the news, and see in the magazines. Were you ever taught that the media isn’t exactly the most reliable source? YOU DON”T KNOW THESE PEOPLE.

Seriously.. get a real job, or at least learn to do your job better. Or if that’s too difficult, stop making a living on tarnishing the names of people you don’t have the first clue about.

Of course it was a wonderful day, for I knew right then
that it was only a matter of a short dozen years
before his entire empire would fall into my gnarled,
misshapen hands, affording my limitless opportunity
to wreak havoc upon the heartless ponies and children
who had so oft delighted in taunting me as I wheeled
past lo these many years (6).

In fact, reading this boring story reminded me of that,
the happiest day of my life, up until that point, though
a pointless day in retrospect. I become choked up
at the very memory of it, my tattered bloody birthday suit,
my crumpled, ruined lifeless father, the look of quiet
knowing in the pony’s teary brown eye, the shrieks of my dear
mother as she discovered her snifter to be as empty
as the rest of her life, the sickly sweet smells of death and popcorn
mingling with the sawdust, grease paint and urban grime
to form a not quite succulent perfume that reminds me now,
as ever, of the importance of choosing the proper venue.

It was a day, like this, that I shall never forget.

“Party guests. Mr. Cyrus will now play his world-famous song. Armed Disney characters are on hand at all the exits to prevent you from leaving. You are permitted one scream of hopeless despair each. These are non-transferable.”

Can we make this December 16th ‘Let’s Hunt And Kill Billy Ray Cyrus Day’ for what would have been Bill Hicks’ 47th birthday? We owe him that TV show of his in tribute. Too much? Okay, his 50th then.