Hepplewhite, runner-up in five successive races, has an outstanding chance of finally going one better in the 3-y-o Maiden Stakes over ten furlongs of good to soft Brighton this afternoon.
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Miley, meet Saucy Wow
Where is Denise Belfon when you need her?
I would like to lock the professor emerita of wining in a padded room with Miley Cyrus for 24 hours and take absolutely no bets on who will emerge begging for someone to put a compress on her achy breaky heart.
Poor Miley. The chick just looked overwhelmingly outta timing at the VMA awards last week, like she was trying too hard and mistook energy for talent. Being seriously challenged in the posterior, Miley, and her performance, could correctly be described as half-a--ed.
The story is that Miley wanted her performance to be edgy, with a hip hop vibe, to release her inner Lil Kim. She told her producers, “I want something that feels black.”
Now, I am not touching that with kryptonite gloves. The obvious retort is just too easy, but this tiny-winey wannabe needs some self-actualisation therapy, or a quick peek in a mirror might do.
Bet nobody at the awards listened to her lyrics, so bombed-out were they by her waist overdrive and Styrofoam finger, but one line goes like this: “We run things, things don’t run we.” Super Cat, Red Dragon, somebody, quick, rescue this woman from herself.
That’s the problem with dopes. They think they can just fling a few diluted lyrics here and there, like plastic accessories, and gyrate like a robot with a blown fuse, and they have culture. You think Denise Belfon, Fay-Ann Lyons and Destra Garcia just woke up one morning with all that sex appeal and professionalism in their hips and waists? Natural fluidity is one thing but intelligent wining requires market research, dedication, stamina and lots of Spandex.
Americans call what Miley was doing “twerking.” Now, I ask you—what could be sexy, naughty, nice or entertaining about anything called twerking? The term sounds like something to do to the nose of the dweeb who spills his cola on you at MovieTowne. Twerking!
The Miley Cyrus VMA buzz reminds me of how it took someone named Bo Derek in 1979 to make cane rows fashionable. Before Bo and the movie 10, you couldn’t work in a bank with the traditional braided hairstyle because it might Shaka Zulu the bejezus out of the management. But let some obscure blonde bounce along a beach in slow motion on screen and, suddenly, cane rows are temptress-cool.
Same thing with bottoms. As Penny Commissiong appropriately sneered in a recent interview, it took Jennifer Lopez to make bottoms popular.
That’s the power of marketing, I suppose. Denise Belfon had better watch her rear and send a legal letter to dictionary editors everywhere to include her name in the modern definition of “wining” and “bubbling.” After all, twerking is now in the dictionary, thanks to one poom-poom shorts performance from Hannah Montana’s evil twin.
I have one more suggestion for the Oxford English Dictionary editors. Miley: an expletive, to be thought, but never uttered.
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