Hanna Montana (also sometimes called “Miley Cyrus”, although neither of these is her legal, given-at-birth name—what IS this girl hiding?) is not a lesbian, por favor. At least not at this juncture, thank you, and she wants you to understand this. So forget that she might be a tomboy country cowgirl (or at least that’s what I read—nobody knew who she was three weeks ago, but she’s sprung up overnight like a magic mushroom and is getting bigger than Rosie O’Donnell’s Depends) who’s speaking voice (or so they say) is like Rachel Ray’s after smoking a carton of Camels. And also please to kindly disregard the photos circulating on the “interwebs” or whatever of her frolicking sexily with “one of my best friends.”

Do you hear me, now? Disregard them!

It was just that pesky Satan attacking her again, anyway. She even said so herself.

“What I decided before I came out to L.A. and started working was the minute I didn’t have fun was the minute I go home. I don’t want to go home, and I don’t want to not do what I do, because I love it, but this … it’s Satan attacking and it’s just one more thing I have to deal with. But it’s not something that I’m going to let slide because I really am upset about it,” she concluded.  

So what is she so “upset” about? What is threatening her “fun”? And what the heck does the Prince of Darkness have to do with it? Welp, the pics, which are not lesbian-ish, nor sexy, nor any of that junk, show her sitting on the floor of a hotel with the aforementioned “bestest friend” getting all giggly and girly and pillow-fighty and silly (not in a sexy way, topless cheerleader way), and also (or so it is reported) “sharing a piece of candy”—which by no means should be construed as anything girl-on-girl. And it’s all Satan’s fault anyway. I told you that.

People really need to get their filthy minds out of the gutter. And pray more.

Pesky, pesky Satan could not be reached for comment.

Adrian Ryan

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