Whenever I read something about this family, I hear the faint sounds of banjos, harmonicas, fiddles, and twangy, forgettable country music. It should be the soundtrack to their lives. The Cyruses act like they are the stars of some bootleg 80s soap opera without the glamor, jewels, tennis courts, and Bob Mackie gowns.  It's amazing that a mullet and an Achy Breaky Heart were the things that started them on their road to fame and fortune that is reminiscent of the Clampetts. Like if "The Beverly Hillbillies" had been real and if Elly May had been a child star and Jed had been a one-hit-wonder.  If it weren't for Hannah Montana and Miley's long coattails, Billy Ray would be mostly a footnote's footnote whose 1990s and beyond-career highlights would have included playing country jamborees at county fairs and monster truck shows. The entire Cyrus clan should pay homage to Miley daily because there would be no "them" without her. They should build shrines...