Each morning crossing London Bridge I am assaulted by the vacant plastic visage of Hannah Montana staring at me with dead eyes from buses and billboards.
She embodies all that I hate. Her stupid grin. Her too-clean skin. Her preppy perfect joy that she presents to the world in anticipation of her preppy perfect life. This is what we tech our kids? That life is soulless and you’ll be sexy and numinous if you become a cypher?
If I could destroy one thing on this Earth, and I’m talking scorched earth here, it would be The sacharine lies of the Disney Channel.
Waxy's all about the Fromage 