Culture, Sports, Writing…or whatever
I’ve been dreaming again. Usually it involves someone from my past. It’s non-recurring, different people each time. I won’t go into any more detail.
I hold a new desire to share How I Feel. Not all the way and not with everyone and not about everything. Limited revealing. Peeling back one piece at a time. Banal comparison to layers of an onion, but Shrek already did that. Yet I use it anyways. This says more about me than I wish it did.
I will hide this post from family and (some) friends on Facebook because we’re all connected. This is distinctly a first-world problem. Worrying over the manner in which I express my feelings. No one ever has enough control. Maybe it’s just a white-people problem. Most of my ‘anxiety’ distills down to that, basically. Not having enough followed by guilt knowing I should feel I do.
The world tries to convince me otherwise. The lie goes I’m connected to a seven-year-old, starving Sudanese boy. I’m not. My day-to-day actions and angst don’t affect him, though I wish it did. I remind myself this is why Christians go on retreats. I worry my Christian friends will find this ‘offensive’. Connections on the network don’t die that easily. The Internet’s the biggest troll.
But I will post this on Facebook. No one hears you in a vacuum. Everything worthwhile is niche; the niche is dead. It isn’t profitable. Grantland died. Did you hear? You might’ve heard the thousands of millennial white boys masturbating posts of #sadness. Or you heard the thousands of media members blistering this is How It Is Now. On some real revolutionary Join or Die shit. Or you heard nothing because you ‘don’t care’. That feels good I suppose. I am sad, though.
My parents celebrate more than me for Halloween. A party the night before with rich people, handing out candy on the holiday. They drink; they scare children. I drink; I scare myself. Not specifically, just generally. I buy a bottle of Hpnotiq to create the illusion of turn-up. Over half the bottle goes down. Friends help. We are TURNT. We are the TURNTest. The Hpnotiq tastes artificial, as expected. That’s not a metaphor, though perhaps it should be. I don’t hate it.
The night goes smoothly. We watch The Purge 2: Anarchy. I prefer my title, America: We Kill People Here. My title card would have the anarchical “A” for stylistic effect since I’m an artist. Spoiler alert for this C-level ‘horror’ movie you’ll never see: Humans would do bad things if you let them. Except not all. So the government helps. Because the government hates poor people and wish they died already, this time specifically not generally. The plot’s simultaneously highly plausible and implausible. It’s all an allegory.
I download Tinder and Bumble, mostly for attention. No intentions of meet-ups. Too worried I’ll end up in an extortion plot. So: Swipe right, swipe right, swipe right, swipe right, swipe right, swipe right, except a few lefts on some big girls. Okay. Pretend the outrage, that disguise of self-disgust you do so well. You’re righteous, I’m not. Cool. One girl asks what I’m doing tonight, this Hallow’s Eve. “I’m wearing a different hat,” I respond. Now that’s a metaphor. I delete both apps within the hour.
I go to sleep but don’t dream. I find it comforting.
If you’re under the age of 40, you likely enjoy the musical creations of one Kanye West. You find his music consistently interesting and groundbreaking. You know the upcoming summary paragraph of Kanye’s career, but just as a reminder:
He reintroduced “soul” sounds to popular black music (Blueprint, various others), effectively destroyed gangster rap’s legitimacy on his debut album (College Dropout), recontextualized orchestral tones to sound urban and hip (Late Registration), stole rock music’s big-ness and stadium static for hip hop purposes, usurping rock’s present popularity in the process (Graduation), created a new subgenre within rap of emo-pop beats and minimalistic, soul-searching lyrics delivered through robotic auto-tune vocoders, constructing a new lane for a fresh batch of artists to occupy like he had on his debut album (808s & Heartbreak), demonstrated how far he could push his artistry and maximalize every last modicum of his skill and talent to regain the public’s love (My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy), dropped one of the best rap duo collaborations albums ever—while creating a new subgenre of luxury rap (Watch The Throne), and he…well, you’re not quite sure what Yeezus is, but damn it’s provocative. It gets the people going.
But you likely knew all that because you’re under 40 and care about music and this type of stuff. You’re culturally aware. You scout Twitter for illegal download links when new albums leak, have likely seen all or almost all of Orange is the New Black AND House of Cards, and you have strong opinions about Wes Anderson movies. You enjoy being in the know about pop culture. You do this because you never want to be seen as ‘ignorant’ and dismiss new stuff outright. In fact, you think searching for new culture and entertainment is ‘fun’ and ‘cool.’ You have a good eye and ear for music, film, TV, etc. You’re a good judge. A fair judge. You know what’s quality and what’s kind of crappy. This is why you like Kanye West because*, regardless of his political and social outbursts and his rants and interviews and all this stuff, you recognize he produces good music.
*And this part is key.
Unfortunately, your parents do not. Parents don’t understand Kanye, especially your parents. They hate Kanye West. Hate him. “That Kanye’s a jerk, man. A real jerkoff. How could you like a guy like that?” you can almost hear them saying right now. At every family gathering, you’re put on trial for enjoying Kanye West, as if you represent his legal counsel. “How could you respect him?” “How could you defend him for (various social outbursts)?” “Did I mention he’s a jerkoff?” You always hear these statements. You’re sick of them. Tired of these perpetual attacks. This referendum on your character.
We know this pain. We get it. We want to help you. And so we’ve written this for you, cultured person under age 40, to present the next time a parent or uncle or boss criticizes you for liking Kanye West.* No longer will you toil under their oppressive ignorance. No longer will you need to fearlessly battle for yourself and/or Kanye. No longer will you be misunderstood. All you need to do, cultured friend, is hand this to them, filled out accordingly, and all will be fine with your world.
*Exhibit C is not applicable in debates revolving around and with regards to Kanye’s ranking and status within the hip hop realm. Exhibit C will not prove Kanye’s comparative worth to Jay Z or Scarface, simply that Kanye has worth at all. We hope this satisfies your needs. If not, we advise you seek legal counsel elsewhere.
And now, we present Exhibit C.
UNITED STATES DISTRICT COURT
DISTRICT OF PUBLIC OPINION
Kanye Haters, Persons over the Age of
40, Persons who don’t engage in pop-
ular culture yet sermonize on it, your
family members, et. al
Plaintiff(s)
vs.
Investigation No. 773-MBDTF-47
Kanye Supporters, Persons under the
Age of 40, Persons who enjoy and
respect popular culture, you, et. al
Defendant(s)
EXHIBIT C
(Insert relative’s name(s) here)
Plaintiff, hereby referred to as Hater, are upset with Kanye West because of (Hurricane Katrina telethon incident/Taylor Swift incident/Recent interviews/other) (hereby circle all that applies).
This upsets you, Hater, because (lack of respect to fellow human being/I’m a diehard Republican/I’m secretly racist/country fan/other people seem upset so I am, too). Now, we understand you have individual value and personal opinions regarding society. We see that in you. A standing pillar of our great democracy lies in the individual and his/her freedom of speech. However, according to our client, you were recently recorded as saying (Insert applicable Kanye-bashing quote here) (e.g. “Kanye West is a fucking piece of shit douchebag. How could you respect someone who’d do that to a pretty, white girl on a national, public stage?” Or “George Bush does care about black people! What a goddamn loser for him to say that.”)
Now, hater, we will forsake questioning the validity and worth of such a statement. Instead, we ask of you of your mistakes as an individual. Like that time (Insert drunken outburst mistake here) or that time (Insert workplace outburst here, i.e. yelling at boss out of frustration, losing job as a result, family struggles mightily for 6-8 months while looking for a new job, human souls are tested.).
And we ask of you, hater, if your mistakes throughout life are not redeemable. We will not ask you if they are comparable to Mr. West’s mistakes for that would be a trappable court room fallacy that this case could not recover from because of course your mistakes and his mistakes are in no way comparable for multiple reasons including, but not limited to, his status and public nature of his mistakes which amplitudes them, that Mr. West may or may not be completely mentally stable like most great artists, that you are of a different upbringing of him (likely of white American origin) and cannot understand the competing forces within society that work against Mr. West, and because Mr. West has a habit of doing very, very publicly foolish things that 99.99% of the public does not have a habit of doing.
So we will not ask if your mistakes are comparable, but instead if they are redeemable. (Insert long-winded response where hater argues yes they are redeemable but attempts to hint at some comparability to Mr. West’s transgressions.)
(Court room quickly devolves into parties interrupting each other, talking over one another, etc.)
Stop—please, no sir/madam, please I’m insis—No but you simply don’t understand. You can’t have it both ways like this…I know. No, I know. Kanye West may not be the most respectable human being, but he is redeemable because redemption is basic constitution of Americ—so what he doesn’t get the same rights as you and me?…Fine, he sucks or whatever. I’ll let you have that.
But could you at least admit his music is pretty good?
(No, hater almost always will respond.)
Well fuck you then!! I move that this case be tossed out due to the fact that this hater will always be a hater and culturally unaware and who’s opinions on popular music simply don’t matter. They reject new ideas only because they’re new and live in their old, nostalgic world. And in this court of public opinion, where we are constantly trying to improve and progress and build a better society, that is simply unacceptable!
Wait…what? I can’t yell “Fuck you!!” to the plaintiff?
I knew this was a losing battle and engaged anyways? I should’ve just kept my mouth shut and moved on? We’re supposed to shake hands, retreat amicably, and accept our differences? That’s your ruling.
Damn. No one man should have all that power.
[a] millennial reservations 