What is Miley Cyrus?
She’s a musician.
What kind of “Musician” is Miley Cyrus?
She’s a professional musician.
Where is she now?
She is currently crossing the street.
Why is that odd?
The light is green, and she is holding up traffic.
What are the moral implications of the situation I’m in?
Even though the light is green and even though you are holding up traffic, you should not hit the gas pedal of your car and drive it into Miley Cyrus. There’s a certain propensity people have to wish death or horrible disfigurement on public figures they don’t know either because they get a bad feeling when they encounter them; they aren’t the target audience; they disapprove of them morally; they’re trying re-establish some sort of sense of control in a media landscape that doesn’t leave much for the subjective experience of the individual at times, in the sense that it creates an illusion of choice, where your approval is welcomed and reinforced, but since the response doesn’t really change when you disapprove, then it seems as if the responses you get from your approval, well, they lose credibility, and the whole thing comes to resemble some huge panopticon of gaslighting and psychological abuse, where you are constantly being told in friendly and false terms that what you think is your own reality is in fact not your reality because the thing you say you don’t like is the thing you like, we think you’ll like this, click this, do this, want this no? want this no? want this the no button is buried in five menus and disabled, or it’s revealed to you and then revised away for your better experience, and you’re never told where it went or why, and all you feel is bitter impotent rage in the nauseated sarlaac pit of your over-fructated stomach at the cracked sidewalk snaking from your aching optic nerves to the aching nerves in your weary and overstimulated cortext; or that people would think it’s funny. But really people don’t even mean that you should do violent things when they joke that you should. Except when they do, which is sometimes. And those are people you should be careful around, because your acceptance of what they say as a joke might be tacet acceptance of violence they are privately perpetrating on others, and you don’t want to be part of the problem good lord please no I’m a good person. Am I? This thing you like says you’re horrible. Like this thing no? Like this thing no? The thing you like says you are horrible. You are a killer. You are a murderer. All murders are one murder and that murder is yours. Insufficient zeal in the revolution is oppression and you are too tired so tired tired to join the dissonant images into one shape, like the curved cracked shards of a Grecian urn that was once something beautiful and true. But then as the heart wells and the gut wretches you must say no. No, it is not funny. No, it is not good. No, I am this and that is that. My foot, my gas, my story. Consciousness is an illusion well it’s my illusion. And I’m not going to run over Miley Cyrus in the street or joke about it or visualize it anymore, because the joke is done and I know how to drive and I’ve never even met this person. So all the people honking behind me can take their time. Besides, I’m pretty sure that was Hilary Duff anyway.