Let’s thank the ghetto’s finest news source (WSHH) once again for compiling this digital treat.
Kanye Week continues with in-depth analysis of Mr. West’s every whimper as he makes his media rounds promoting the bitch-and-whinefest he calls a new album. The transcendent Yeezy Bear’s latest appearance on NBC’s Late Night with Conan O’Brien explores fashion, pop-a-rot-zees and the wonders of Auto-Tune.
How appropriate that they discuss fashion when Kanye comes to the program looking like Ray Charles–or at least like Ray Charles had dressed himself. Unless you’re actually blind, there’s no reason to have those shades on inside while–especially while someone’s talking to you.
[Blogger's Note: That's how we start this shit off right. Blind jokes, baby!]
I don’t think he could tell that his shirt was green with them damn BluBlockers on. Man… I love… these BluBlockers! Someone should kick a rap about those fawntaaaaaastic shades. Less than fantastic are the “Venitian blind” models homie’s been known to rock.
You need more than just some touchdown shades to refer to your shit as a “Michael Jackson moment.” Gotta throw on some frizzled shoulder pads or a shrimpboat captain uniform on top of that. The shades alone just make you an asshole.
I don’t know what that body suit from Kanye’s Pastel collection is supposed to be. I thought I was tripping the fuck out. Fully-zipped nigga look like the Abominable Blowjob Monster. Maybe more The Rainbow Knight? Conan knew better than to take the bait on the robbery quip. It wouldn’t take the police too long to find the nigga wearing the full-body condom blasting 808s and Brokebacks.
Hmmm… Maybe it’s more like a co-coon than a condom.
When “Adult Urkel” is the tamest of your looks, you’re officially a Martian. Blowjob monster jokes aside, I’m not going to make any conjectures into sexual orientation–as Kanye’s potential homosexuality is completely irrelevant–but I remembember the kid in kindergarten who prided himself in compiling his ensemble. He later became the kid who made a move on me in recess on the monkey bars.
I’m just taking mental notes so that I’m not all that surprised when Kanye finally comes out of the closet.
The biggest “Negro Please” of the day comes in Kanye’s comparison of the civil rights activism of his fathers to snuffing a cameraman. Interesting. Even if I were to give Ye the benefit of the doubt and say that an unauthorized flick is a violation of civil rights–as opposed to just being a dick move–I can’t say that snuffing a nigga in frustration is akin to a Woolworth sit-in.
I tried. I can’t do it. As president of the BCLU (Bloggers’ Civil Liberties Union), I can’t co-sign.
King Elvis Kanye, the greatest pop-artist in American history truly has a talent for making people feel he thinks they’re beneath him. Unfortunately for him, everything can backfire as too many others have access to the secret of his iconoclasticosity. [I made that word up. You like?] If Ron Browz can mock convenience store chatter into it and have a hit record, you need a new Campbell’s soup can.
Kanye is also fucked in that I don’t think I’m the only person who’d rather hear Conan use Auto-Tune.
Excuse me, brothers and sisters. I have to go to the bathroom really really badly.
[Translation: I really don't feel like blogging with you niggas anymore today. Let's wrap this shit the fuck up.]
Questions? Comments? Requests? You better wrap that fuckin gavel up, Bee! email@example.com
Enjoy yourselves tomorrow, bitches. Try not to have any itis-related fashion mishaps.