Dear Disney: Pls stop producing rich whores

Miley Cyrus is a cute as a button. She's not very talented...but with help from fancy voice editing...she can produce a few good songs. And her annoying personality gives off the persona that she can act. I'm sure it's fun for Disney fans to watch her and Lily get themselves into the same repetitive shenanigans, and I even have to admit...some episodes are quite catchy.

BUT DAMN IT DISNEY....CAN YOU TONE IT DOWN JUST A BIT?????????

"You get the limo out front
Hottest styles, every shoe, every color

Pictures and autographs
You get your face in all the magazines"

So, these stars claim that they're encourage kids to be what ever they want to be, that they can be anything they put their mind too. Well, I think they should just cut the crap. With song lyrics like that do you really think kids are thinking about becoming doctors? Hannah Montana is fully glamorizing the famous life. It's all about being rich and famous. (I know this isn't the only show that does this...but I'm only using it as an example) I've listened to a few of this kids songs...most of them, like her show...is just about her bragging about her wonderful glamorous life. Normally I know I shouldn't be bothered by this, but when my younger sister thinks that in order to be something in this world you'll need a blond wig and shiny clothes...then I get concerned.

This Vanessa Hudgens chick takes nudes photos, and instead of Disney letting her go...they renew her contract???? For another 3 sequels of HSM (which SUCKS)?? Gotta love how they're teaching children about consequences for your actions.

I know the photo's of Miley that I posted aren't "that bad" or they aren't "as bad" as Vanessa hudgens, HOWEVER...they're still bad. I know that I wouldn't want my younger sister taking pictures like that. I understand that Miley Cyrus isn't the only 15 year old girl to take pictures like this. I've seen several like this on myspace. But if this kid is so on top of the world...shouldn't she be raised to have better judgment?

Maybe I'm old fashion. And maybe I'm over reacting, but I can't help it. I grew up watching shows like Fullhouse, family matters and the fresh prince...I think my generation of television got the upper hand compared to my sister. She's only 7, so I'm trying to protect her young mind as much as I can. I'm just amazed at how much money these kids make for being mindless, unoriginal and having poor judgment.

They aren't talented. They're sick capitalists.

There are some who become who they want to be, or who they're suppose to be just seconds before taking that last breathe. It's that moment of knowing that you'll never be able to say out loud the things you've always wanted to say to the important people in your life. That specific moment is when your whole life seems to flash by you, and you either feel joy or regret. There are also those who that encounter that brush of death, but some how, life finds a way to grab onto their hand and pull them back to reality. Some claim that an experience as such can change ones life. It can open windows that leads to making the right choices.

"Whatever comes our way, whatever battle we have raging inside us, we always have a choice...It's the choices that make us who we are, and we can always choose to do what's right." Spider-man 3

Brilliant, inspiring words, but are they easier said than done? How can we stop ourselves from making a bad choice when we're so deeply embedded in our anger and rage? What do we require in order to pull us away from the darkness?

We'd all be in denial if we said we haven't done anything that we're not proud of. Let's face it, we've all said or done things that we regret or we make mistakes that could have been avoided. But how do we justify them? Or, how do we go about forgiving ourself and learn to accept that some things are out of our reach, therefore we cannot change them?

How do we know what the right thing is? Super hero's make it look easy, but what's the reality behind it? Clark Kent could kill Lex Luthor in the blink of an eye. Spider-man can rob banks and become an over-night billionaire. So what stops them? How is it so simple for fictional characters to want to use their power for good and not evil, yet we live in a reality where power corrupts and people get hurt?

I'm not scrutinizing humanity on the whole. There are great men who've walked before us and who walks among us. They've done great things, and they continue to do great things. They're the ordinary humans who save lives on a daily basis and put others before themselves.

That leaves me to wonder. Is there really evil in this world? Do the dictators who have many suffering below them want to be the way they are? What about me? What about my friends and my family? What about you? Or the strangers you encounter everyday? Do we all have a bit of Clark Kent hidden somewhere in us? What about the ones who takes the lives of others? Are they truly evil, or do they hope to one day be the person who many would admire?

I look at my own life and question some of the actions that I've made. I can't justify the bad choices, but I do wish I could go back in time and change the things that I've done. We all have our moments of inspiration where we want to do good in the world. So how is it that anger and rage can over power this?

Just a thought

"Lunch in a bowl: I don't love you." - Jonathan Safran Foer

Is it possible to love someone with out loving them? What I mean is, is it possible to still love someone who you've ended a relationship with and never want to see or hear from again? Is it possible to love and hate one person?

The truth is, as much as I would like to believe that I've moved on from him, and discarded him from the pages of my life; I haven't. If you read between the lines, he's there! I know it may seem like my world revolves around him from what I blog, but you have to bare with me and keep in mind that I only blog when I feel of rush of reminiscence coming over me. That and I have nothing else to write about other than Smallville.

Maybe it's because things ended so weirdly. Yes, I must admit I was first to erase him from my life, but he was not giving me much of a choice. I felt as though he was avoiding me, and that he just didn't want to speak to me. I couldn't keep in contact with him, because had I did, I would have never fell out of love with him. Hmm, I think I just answered my own question. I love him, but I'm not in love with him.

There's not much more that I can do other than sit here and wonder. In good time, if he allows me too, my relationship with him will be nothing more than a faint, distant memory; a beautiful one.

Forfeit

Chance, after chance. I gave them to you. Just when I thought I couldn't give you anymore, I laid out another one.

So why did you keep coming back if you had no intention of making things right? What kind of sick mind game did you hope to accomplish?

Consider me the rain on your parade. You failed miserably. What ever stunt you, or your evil sidekick were trying to pull, it did not work out. Perhaps you need new tactics? Or perhaps your partner is so immature beyond her age that she cannot simply go a full day without the slightest bit of drama in her life that she had to allow something as stupid as this to occur.

I don't blame her for being jealous. But I was not the venom in your relationship. You were. Your lack of being able to control your emotions, your selfishness and your pride screwed you over big time. You didn't win any battle, nor did she. All that happened was that you lost one of your best friends.

It must have torn you apart to noticed how easily I disregarded you. As though you were just trash. Well baby, you're nothing more than that to me now. I was willing and able to swallow my pride, but you had to meet me half way. You couldn't do that. Now it's over and done for.


Best of luck to you. (K)

Triplets- By Tom Robbins

I went to Satan’s house.
His mailbox was painted black.
A fleet of bone crushers
was parked in his driveway.
The thorns on his rosebushes
were longer than shivs.
And sixty-six roosters scratched
in his front yard, their spurs
smoldering like cheap cigars.

I went to Satan’s house.
It was supposed to be an Amway party.
I wanted a set of those
hard-as-hell steak knives.
The ones that can't tell the difference
between mama's sponge cake
and a block of rock cocaine.

I went to Satan’s house.
I felt a little out of place.
But Satan’s twin daughters soon put me at ease.
They tried on funny hats for me,
showed me jewels,
danced around my chair.
They read my fortune
in a bowl of ashes,
let me pet their Dobermans,
and watch while they rinsed out their pink under things.

I stopped by Satan’s house.
I just happened to be in the neighborhood.
Satan came downstairs in a raider’s jacket.
His aura was like burnt rubber,
but his grin could paint a sunrise
on a coal shed wall.
"I see you've met desire
and fulfillment," he said,
polishing his monocle with
a blood-flecked rag.

"Regret is in the kitchen making coffee."