Miley Cyrus’s new song: A Capitalist Manifesto

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Ever since Karl Marxxx released that little Communist Manifesto thing, capitalism has been searching for its answer. We’ve known that our cause was right and that our economic theory could totally beat Marxxx’s economic theory in a three out of five street brawl scenario; the proof is in this map of the world that does not feature the words “Soviet Union” anywhere on it.

DAT STACHE THO.

But we have struggled to articulate capitalism’s overriding ideology, and thus have failed to make a compelling case to impoverished parts of the world where residents see the ascent of China and feel drawn toward Marxxxism.

Then, Miley happened. Miley Cyrus, arguably America’s foremost mind on inexplicably being rich, has released her first foray into dubstep, and it is a glorious defense of American capitalism. It is, in short, The Capitalist Manifesto.

Officially the song is named “Decisions,” in a reference to the decision that must be made about whether to make penis with Joseph Schumpeter or Joseph Stalin’s mustache. As we all know, this is an important decision that every first grader must make.

The manifesto is technically produced by Israeli musician/DJ/thing/dubstepper  Borgore and features Miley on “vocals.” Israel pretty much almost borders Austria, making this a clear allusion to Austrian economist Friedrich Hayek, who is largely considered the abusive stepfather of capitalist.

Now, at this point, those of you who listened to song (I FIGURED OUT HOW TO EMBED, I’M A SAVANT) will probably have noticed that cake is a prominent player in the song.  If you chose to abstain from watching – after all, not listening to Miley is what my Health teacher meant when he said “abstinence is the only way to avoid STD’s” – just know that the line “bitches love cake” is featured prominently in The Manifesto. Released just months after Rihanna first popularized cake in her song “Birthday Cake,” it is apparent to anyone listening that Miley simply stole Rihanna’s idea and started selling it. If that’s not capitalism at its heart, then I’m not a savant.

This happens in the video. Deal with it.

However, the most capitalist aspect of this song is in the lyrics themselves. And while the song has only like four lines (of coke?!?!), they say all that needs to be said to defend capitalism: “I want it all, so I get it all/ I wanna eat the whole cake/I’ m not sharing, I’m not sharing/ You should have to learned how to bake.” In just 29 glorious words, Miley lays out capitalism at its core.

In capitalist societies, if you want it all, you can just take it all so long as you were born to a father who got rich singing about a biologically impossible “achey-breaky” coronary disease. If anyone questions this, blame them for their troubles. Tell them they are acting like “victims” looking for a handout, and say that they should have learned how to bake. And, if anyone even THINKS of discussing redistribution, simply yell “I’M NOT SHARING” until they die and go away.

In short, Miley lays out in one chorus what Mitt Romney just spent a billion dollars tryna hide. She succinctly and eloquently explains how American capitalism can be summarized by one simple phrase: “Bitches love cake.”

Well played, Miley. Well played.

Why We Should Stop Hating on Nickelback

Trashing Nickelback hasn’t always been a thing. In fact, about ten years ago, a lot of you loved Nickelback. During the 2000s, Nickelback was one of the top-selling musical act in the United States, coming in second to the Beatles. That’s right. The American people willingly chose Chad Kroeger — goatee and all — over U2, Radiohead, Pink Floyd, and the Rolling Stones.

“Stop pretending you don’t want me.”

So why have you suddenly turned your back on the band you used love? I have a few ideas, all of which boil down to your failure as a human being. So for all of you who love to trash Nickelback, there are several reasons that I would very much like you to shut up.

1. You are filthy hypocrites.

Flash back to your life ten years ago. Did you have the words to “How You Remind Me” memorized, like I did (and still do)? Damn right, you did. So did every other kid in America, and you know what? You were proud of it. I even remember my five-year-old sister singing that she’d never made it as a wise man, that she couldn’t cut it as a poor man stealing, and that she’d been to the bottom of every bottle. It was literally — yes, literally — impossible to escape this song.

I have since reached the conclusion that, music-wise, Chad Kroeger and his pals are not what I would call “talented.” In fact, they suck. But you know who else sucks? Avril Lavigne, the Black Eyed Peas, and the Spice Girls. And if you hear “Sk8r Boi,” “My Humps,” or “Stop!,” you’re gonna sing. You know why? You love it. Sorry.

2. We get it: you’re just like everyone else!!! U R so awesum!!!

“Nickelback sucks.”

THE SKY IS BLUE!  CANCER IS BAD!  RICKY MARTIN IS GAY!

It’s funny how by criticizing a band for bringing nothing new to the table, you are, well, bringing nothing new to the table.

If you are going to talk, please present me with new information or a unique perspective. Saying how much you hate Nickelback is a cheap and unoriginal way to gain approval, and it does not demonstrate your value as an individual. So stop it, or so help me, I will delete your number from my contacts and remove you from my Facebook friends.

3. Nickelback’s horribleness + you not liking them ≠ you having good taste in music.

Laughing at the atrocious dialogue in From Justin to Kelly does not make you a movie critic. Gagging at the thought of chocolate-covered bacon does not mean you have a refined palate. And being sort of creeped out by serial rapists does not make you a good judge of character.

See what I’m getting at?

Nickelback has earned the support of highly respected individuals.

4. This level of sadism kind of disturbs me.

I will admit that I take joy in the suffering of a good number of people. Yeah, it sort of makes me happy to see the reaction to a B- from the girl who speaks Spanish before the professor gets to class, because she needs to know that her fake accent does not make her a better person than me. And yes, very few things thrill me more than an ugly photo of Jessica Biel, as I am obligated to hate anyone in a relationship with Justin Timberlake.

But Nickelback? What, besides filling your ears with sounds on par with nails on a chalkboard, did Nickelback ever do to offend you? Don’t you think the band everyone loves to hate has suffered enough? Apparently, not.

5. And lastly, in the words of Nickelback’s devoted fans on YouTube…

“[W]e need this, its almost as good as sex and mary jane its definately needed so jesus i love you see you eventually AMEN.”

“[T]his song exposed the illuminati!!.. lol.”

“Thumb up my comment please, my caterpillar just died, its what she would of wanted.”

I don’t know about you, but the idea of debating fans like these is simply terrifying to me.

An Open Letter Apology To Attendees of Last Night’s Hannah Montana Concert

To everyone who attended last night’s Hannah Montana concert:

After spending some time thinking about my actions last night, I have no doubt in my mind that I owe the most sincere and heartfelt apology to everyone who suffered the grave misfortune of seeing my behavior. Boasting a blood alcohol content presumably over .4, I acted in a manner that was immature, unruly, and worst of all, wholly unfit to be seen by the many children who were there.

It's probably a good thing I was not allowed to constitute a leg of Hannah's heinous throne.

I truly wish I could even give an explanation for my presence at the concert. To be perfectly honest, yesterday was a bit of a whirlwind – I woke up this morning in the arms of a homeless person on Michigan Avenue, and only came to discover the nature of this incident through a series of hardly comprehensible text messages, a police citation I found stuffed in my boxers, and a rather unflattering article on the third page of the Chicago Tribune. Needless to say, I was horrified to learn about the magnitude of my heinousness at last night’s show.

I suppose I must begin this apology by acknowledging the abject inappropriateness of my attire. According to a slew of picture messages sent to a wide variety of ex-girlfriends, I chose to arrive at the concert clad quite scantily. The teal, sequin-covered top was hardly something to which the eyes of young females should be subjected, especially considering the unnecessary reveal of my midriff, and with it, my neon-orange-dyed happy trail. Moreover, I showed an unreasonable lack of foresight in choosing to wear a three-sizes-too-small pair of hot pink running shorts. I’m sure you’ll agree that they didn’t look especially becoming with my knee-high black army boots. I hope that the future mothers of America weren’t terribly haunted and scarred by the image of an out-of-shape twenty-year-old dressed like a whorish cheerleader at a Belly-dancing class in South Jersey.

Regrettably, my ill-advised attire wasn’t the extent of my behavior last night that warrants profuse apology. My general display of social unawareness is made quite obvious in a video uploaded to YouTube shortly after the concert. Apparently, in my altered state of mind, I was under the impression that “Party in the U.S.A.” was a jingoist musical manifesto, and treated it as such. It was completely unpardonable of me to strip off the few pieces of clothing I was wearing and run laps on the stage, waving an American flag and provocatively touching Miley Cyrus every time I passed her. I am genuinely thankful that a few upstanding members of the Chicago Police Department took this as their cue to pin me to the stage and savagely beat me with clubs; I shudder to imagine how I might have acted if I had still been in the audience during “Hey Now.”

The looks she shot me while I screamed at her "TAKE IT OFF DIRTY GIRL" weren't quite this seductive.

However, it does seem that I found my way back into the concert, though I can’t explain how. This is probably the part of the night that calls for the most pronounced apologies. The way I accosted young female tweens was simply unacceptable, and I can make no excuses for myself. To begin with, it is in no way fair to assume that they “would all grow up to be back-stabbing whores who only want to use me to get closer to my older brother Mitch.” Additionally, use of the words “underdeveloped” and “flat-chested” were absolutely unjustified. Most of all, I must apologize from the bottom of my heart for screaming that I wished for them to all die in childbirth.
I assure you all that I am usually an upstanding young gentleman, and that this is an extremely isolated incident. I guarantee that I will never again come to a Hannah Montana concert and drunkenly heckle young girls. Please accept this apology; I can only ask humbly for your forgiveness for the unspeakable atrocities I committed.

Cordially,
Ross Packingham