How Much I Don't Care about Miley Cyrus

I became reminded this week of the limitations of the English language.  I searched for a word or term to express the extent to which I don’t care about Miley Cyrus or what she might have done at the Video Music Awards.  I didn’t watch the show, and I didn’t even watch any of the billion or so clips that have been posted by anyone who knows how.  But I’ve been bombarded with commentary, headlines, photos and quotes at every turn.  I searched my lexicon for appropriate adjectives to describe my feelings, but the only ones that seemed to be in the neighborhood were ‘apathy’, ‘indifference’ and maybe ‘ambivalence’.   None of them seemed to fit.  That’s when I realized there are different levels of “don’t care”. 

The words listed above invoke the image of a puffball dandelion in my lawn. It lacks sufficient structure or definition to stand against external forces; it could lean to the left or the right, depending on which way the breeze blows.  And if it rains or you step on it, it might lose its definition altogether.

This is completely appropriate to describe many situations we face in life, although men and women see them quite differently.  For example, it perfectly describes the feeling men have when asked “should I wear the black hoops or the silver stud earrings with these shoes”?   Just tell us which way you want us to lean, and we’ll support your decision.  We just don’t care.

Women, on the other hand, experience this same feeling when asked which teams they want to see play in the Super Bowl, World Series, or Stanley Cup.  Maybe some have one favorite home team, but most aren’t willing to give up a day at the spa, go a year with no car, or lose a few teeth in a brawl over it.  They are apathetic, indifferent, or ambivalent. 

But this is not my Miley Cyrus level of “don’t care”.  My “don’t care” is not a puffball dandelion swayed by the breeze.  My “don’t care” is more like a granite boulder the size of New Jersey.  Maybe we could introduce ‘grantipathy’ as a new word to capture the essence.  You can blast wind at it, drown it in torrential rain, fire bomb it, even detonate multiple nuclear devices on it and you won’t substantially change the shape, form or substance of my “don’t care”.  It’s not fragile and subject to the whims of the elements or my environment.  You can’t intimidate my “don’t care” through appeals, whining, or intellectual sophistry about the declining morality of our culture.  We all know by now that people will use shock as a substitute for talent or intellectual stimulus to get attention.  Yes, I have morals and standards. But I resent the expectation that I should muster organized outrage in response to each lame attempt to assault my conscience, much like I resent the suggestion that I should stand outside a bar on Saturday night and agree to be provoked to fight every drunk who wants to test his manhood by assaulting mine. I just don't owe anybody that.

  

I’m not angry at Miley Cyrus.  I’m not shocked, outraged, amused, intrigued or disgusted.  I just don’t care.