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Kanye West is My “King”

Welcome to Kanye Week at Negro Please… Maybe.

“It’s our responsibility as musicians to keep pushing each other… We will be the new Beatles, the new [Jimi] Hendrix. They say in every other industry, you’re supposed to do better than the past. Like, computers should get smaller and faster. But whenever you say, ‘I want to be Elvis [Presley],’ they say, ‘What’s wrong with you?’ But I want to be Elvis.” -Kanye West, American Music Awards

Here I am thinking niggas was trying to be taller, better, faster, stronger–like in the NBA.

As y’all already know, I’m from the Chuck D school of Elvis praise and the Silky Johnson school of Kanye bashing. From both vantage points, I can’t believe what I’m reading.

So, you want musicians to push each other, Yeezy? You also want to be Elvis? You can’t be no Elvis AND want to push other artists to the brink of greatness. That’s like wanting to be Clayton Bigsby. Please be advised that Elvis Presley wouldn’t push Jimi Hendrix’s black ass into a swimming pool if he were on fire, let alone intentionally inspire him to do well.

I thought Kanye wasn’t coming back to the AMA scene anyway. I remember a few years ago he tried to snatch the Best New Artist award out of Gretchen Wilson’s mouth. Now he’s talking all this Love, Peace and Nappiness shit.

Maybe Kanye feels the need to reinvent his public image as his entire album might as well be called T-Pain izz My New Boyfriend.

If Yeezy Bear were to be an artist from the 60s, he’s definitely chosen the most appropriate. When I think of Elvis Presley I think of a megalomaniac more beloved than his actual level of talent warrants. He’s also already taken all the liberties associated with being “The King.” Hip-Hop’s Nap-pole-Leon Bonerparts has already dictated everyone’s role like that annoying kid on the playground who never wants to be “it.”

“Beyonce can be Diana Ross. John Legend can be Bill Withers. Wyclef is my Hendrix. Coldplay can be Led Zeppelin. Umm… Err… Day 26 can be The Temptations. Justin Timberlake can be Michael MacDonald. Ya Mo B Elvis!”

With that said, I hope the Kanye/Elvis parallel ends there. I don’t want any blood on my hands if Kanye dies on the toilet with a peanut butter and banana sandwich in his throat. I don’t wish that sort of ill will on anyone, even if they spit in my soda.

Eh, not that such a death would even be likely. Mr. West would first have to remove the plastic dick before trying to fit anything else in that blasphemous mouth of his.

In creative efforts I think it’s more important that artists are more concerned with shit like… Umm… being the best they can be as opposed to comparing themselves to others. I leave the Billy > Ronnie > Bol > Billy > Ronnie shit to the readers. None of it affects my waking up early in the evening to shit on your favorite so-called rapster. If I lose focus, my shit’s back on the cutting room floor. I don’t get bonuses or demerits by comparison.

I competes with myself. I’m in a class by myself. I am the voice of this current blog generation and I accept my place atop the hip-hop journalism world. If I don’t get any Negro Weblog Awards or one of them SOHH-hosted jawns they keep giving to their own bloggers then I’m gonna question the nomination process and the integrity of the academy of monkeys that determines the outcome.

Wait. What was I saying?

Oh, yeah. Right. Umm… I’d be more concerned with dropping a Late Registration-esque blog on Monday then following it up with a Graduation and an 808s and Heartbreak Hotel as everything on that record sounds like the junglebunny vocoder version of Pleeeeease Love Me Tender.”

Questions? Comments? Requests? I’m Gumby, dammit!

Vote for Ronnie. I don’t know where… but just write my name in because I’m the best evarr.

[Trying to see if what works for the rapsters will work for the blogsters.]

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