Billy Ray Cyrus, I just can’t love you anymore. Sure, I used to hoot and holler when “Achy Breaky Heart” cued up on Saturday nights when I went out line dancing with mom…but I was eight years old and didn’t know any better!!!

Now I’m older and wiser than that (I hope to god?). But you apparently are not. You think that since you lost the signature mullet and sprouted a sole patch, I’ll love you again?
You disgust me. There is nothing left for us.

Allow me to delineate the post-ache, post-break events that have led to your demise in my eyes:

1. Your only daughter is a big liar. Her name is not Hannah Montana.

2. Your only daughter currently surpasses your level of celebrity. By about $800 per ticket.

3. You just got caught not wearing your seat belt in the backseat of a Range Rover. You apologized to People Magazine.
“We got caught up in the moment of filming, and we made a mistake and forgot to buckle our seatbelts.”