If I wasn’t sick of Kanye West before 2016, I damn sure am now. Ye has been nothing short of shameless in striving to make his new album, The Life of Pablo, a viral smash. Whether it’s anal wars with Amber Rose or bizarre declarations of Bill Cosby’s innocence, West has grasped for relevance with all the desperation of a suddenly fading star.
After reading through this latest tweetstorm, I have just one question:
What did you do with the $53 million I lent you, Kanye?
The last time you were in a tough spot, Kanye, you came to me—and I came through for you. I dug deep and spotted you the equivalent of a summer blockbuster movie budget. And apparently you squandered it all.
Seriously, man. Didn’t you just rap on The Life of Pablo that the only difference between you and Ray J is that you’re rich? What did you spend your wealth on? More diamond teeth? God help you if you shelled out that much for your personal wardrobe. I know you couldn’t have thrown it at design consultants.
Wait, wait, don’t tell me: This is part of your “creative process,” isn’t it? I guess you couldn’t record your magnum opus if you hadn’t frittered away your good friend Miles Klee’s hard-earned money on cocaine and Cheetos for the studio. Guess I should have seen that coming, huh.
And you know what? I’m not even mad, really. You’re the eccentric, brilliant artist, after all! You need the space to explore, experiment, and make mistakes. But you still owe me $53 million. T.L.O.P.? You should have called it I.O.U.—because I’m not just gonna forget.
I’m giving you another week to get me my money, Ye. I’m a forgiving man—probably too forgiving. It would be a mistake to test me, however. So borrow from Zuck, steal from Bill and Melinda Gates, do whatever it goddamn takes. I’ll be waiting.
Photo via Chris Potter/Flickr (CC BY 2.0)