A dark arena illuminates with a 60-foot specter of Miley Cyrus' head floating independent from her body. Her giant, LED-emblazoned eyeballs glare into a sea of mostly 18- to 21-year-old female faces, as her pupils saunter in opposite directions. The crowd roars and shrieks as her lips begin to part, and her mouth opens, extending well past her jaw.
Cheers grow louder as an enormous, curved pink tongue slinks out and down past her distended chin. A crescendo from the band and Miley appears inside of her own mouth. She lets out an impassioned "Woooo!" and slides down the curvature of her own tongue as the red and white feathered epaulettes on her leotard flutter. In one fell swoop, she sticks the landing with the fervor of a competitive cheerleader, plants her hand on her hip and lets out one of those cascading Disney-brand pageant-girl waves. Same old Miley. The glint in her eyes says "HEY Y'ALL" in her instantly recognizable Southern drawl. Then she rubs her vagina and books it to her mark downstage. It's Bangerz time, bitches.