“I love weed,” she tells me. “I just love getting stoned.” But she’s less interested in policy than in quality control. “I just want it to be back to where it’s, like, organic, good weed.”
Trying to engage her in other current events, I come up empty-handed. When she tells me that at Thanksgiving with the Cyrus clan her brothers “literally got in a fight over, like, aliens,” I ask, “Immigration?”
“Yes. So he’s just—”
“Where did the family land on that?” I ask.
“Well, my older brother is obsessed with all those documentaries that have been banned. My brother’s convinced it’s the government not wanting us to know about aliens because the world would just, like, freak out—”
“Oh,” I say, realizing there’s been a misunderstanding. “Literal aliens.”
“—and so my younger brother is like, ‘That’s completely bogus.’ ”
“Tell your brother I worked for the government and saw no aliens.”
“I’m not so sure,” she says, telling me she once saw suspicious lights in the sky in the Bahamas. “My dad told me it was a satellite. But the way it zipped off was really weird.”
“I think it was a satellite,” I offer.
Despite her professed lack of interest in politics, Cyrus tells me she wants to have an impact on something. She runs through ideas in earnest. Animal welfare (“Like, all my dogs have been rescued and are amazing”), bullying (“I really want people not to be scared”), water purification (“I think water’s, like, a really important thing”), the environment (“I’m so scared the sky’s not going to be blue anymore. It’s going to be black from all the shit”). If there’s one thing Cyrus has, it’s time to figure out what she stands for.
Ronan Farrow and Miley Cyrus are America’s new Odd Couple