Decades from now when you’re walking through a dystopian landscape not unlike those visualized in seventeen blockbuster movies a year, don’t forget to tell the young street urchins surviving on old people’s feet jerky where this tide of tragedy all began. An epic communicable disease spread like wildfire from one Bangerz tour stop to the next, through contrived lesbian kisses between Miley Cyrus and some completely random girl in the Las Vegas audience that security knew to let rush the stage. That single cell organism transferred from the gaping maw of Hannah Montana fifty dicks later is right now reproducing at apocalyptic rates inside the breach of this niece of somebody who knew somebody in Miley’s camp. The crowd of Fudgsicle brained adolescents oohing over the girl on girl kiss won’t be so charmed when office towers start spontaneously combusting from the sheer ferocity of flesh eater rampages. The survivors will envy the dead and Wayne Newton will sue Miley for ripping his tired Vegas shtick. Teach that to the young remnants of human kind. Remember your history.
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