All posts originally published in 2016
I. Kanye Goes Crazy
So apparently there is some sort of Kanye West “meltdown” audio circulating, in which he compares himself to Stanley Kubrick, Pablo Picasso, St. Paul the Apostle, and Pablo Escobar.
The best scenario here is that he’s hitting too much coke. That’s the best scenario here.
Now, the popular thing to do at this point is to “blame” West’s choice of martial partner for his apparent breakdown from reality. But the truth is, the entire entertainment machine is designed to create maniacs from the talented, young, raw material they suck in. Anybody who does not possess a requisite firewall of good mental health genes, a centered sense of self, and a decentish family/friend base are going to get stretched and smeared out onto the pavement like an amoeba caught in a black hole.
And watching these celebrities slowly rot and fall apart in front of our eyes, in real time, just like the last scene of the original Evil Dead movie—that’s just part of the “fun,” isn’t it? That’s more than half of what drives the entire entertainment news cycle. It’s a constant re-cycling and reenacting of a human sacrifice. It’s the most primal thing there is in the history of our species.
So don’t blame Kim Kardashian for that. She and her family are already hip to entire scam, don’t you see? That’s how they survive.
And so inevitably, Kanye disintegrates, Rihanna disintegrates, Justin Bieber disintegrates…the same way Whitney Houston, Amy Winehouse, and Michael Jackson disintegrated. A legend is reborn, and iTunes tweets to let you know that you can purchase their entire digital catalog for a special, one-time fee. #deadmusician, #addictedmusician, #mentallyderangedmusician.
It’s all good fun. And when your account gets hacked, at least the world will be aware of your great taste in music.
II. Psalms For The Current Aeon
Are they fucking crazy? Bro! By 50 percent. Stanley Kubrick, Apostle Paul…Picasso…fucking Picasso and Escobar. By 50 percent more influential than any other human being. Don’t fuck with me. Don’t fuck with me! Don’t fuck with me! By 50 percent, dead or alive, by 50 percent for the next thousand years. Stanley Kubrick. Ye.
III. The Oncoming Malcolm McDowell/Kanye West Feud
Shit’s getting real.
Somebody quick, ask Keir Dullea what he thinks of Kanye West!