You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
As my 6th grade teacher use to ask us “WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?”
Damn times have changed, haven’t they?
Now we can’t even throw a dodge ball at a kid’s face, but I digress.
Kanye Likes Publicity when it’s on his terms. When it’s not, then he starts getting physical.
Hey Kanye, You don’t like the publicity?, then go flip burgers for a living. Let me know how that works out for you.
Hey Kanye, You don’t want flash bulbs and questions at the airport?, then park cars at Benihanas.
Hey Kanye, You feel like you need some privacy?, then move into a cabin in Montana, otherwise STFU!
So I read that you are a celebrity? Honestly I can’t name one of your songs. That’s not a reflection on you, it’s probably more a reflection on me. Though I do know who other hip hop artists are, so go figure.
Ah yes. I remember now. Aren’t you the guy who was rude to Taylor Swift at the MTV awards?
Yeah that was you.
So apparently you don’t mind being obnoxious when it suits you, right?
Well here’s a concept for you Mr. West; it’s called anger management.
Life is a series of equal and opposite reactions.
You exit an airport to the waiting throng of papparazzi. That’s an action. They want to take your picture. That’s the reaction.
So you walk into a bunch of flash bulbs and questions like “Hi Kayne, how’s it going?”
Suddenly you are a race car speeding down pit lane. You know you’re gonna get red flagged for that.
“Hey Kane, stop and talk to us,” one photog shouts.
Suddenly, unable to find a suitable answer to these mind numbing querries, you look angry.
you have that ” I told you not to talk to me Mo Fo” look on your face.
Suddenly the wise and mystical rap-a-holic is angry.
Who the hell are you again?
You rap? You sing? Why are you famous?
I only know you because you punched a photographer at LAX.
Good for you. You made the latest edition of Life’s Crazy.
So with your brain turned off, and your gonads set to high, I see the blank expression in your face. I see your pace quicken, I see your eyes swell with anger.
For some reason you pick out a single photographer. Is he the smallest? Is he the one who asked how you were doing?
He realizes you are a bull in a china shop as he begins to back pedal.
“Come on, be cool man,” you can hear him say on about a dozen other video cameras.
From every conceptual camera angle we watch you close in on the photographer who has incurred your wanna be gangsta wrath.
“What you are trying to do is get me in trouble,” you say quietly to 12 video cameras hooked up to the instantaneous delivery system of the internet.
The camera angle shows raging Kayne charge, the angry Kayne grab, snort and chortle. Then the camera goes blank.
It’s dramatic and it will sell hits to TMZ to GMA to an L.A. courtroom where you will ultimately have to explain your fatuousness to a judge.
Mr. West; this is the other side of fame. You want us to buy your hip hop hilarity but you want to dictate to us how we should perceive you.
You don’t realize that when you are in a public space you are free game. Last time I checked, LAX is in Los Angeles, a suburb of Mexico.
If I want to take your picture and I don’t invade your personal space, then Mr. West, and I know that you may not be able to understand this, but you are fair game.
You are like an animal at the zoo where we have paid our ticket to look at you.
You want freedom? You want privacy? Go live in the Ted Kazinsky cabin in Montana.
The video shows Kayne putting the photographer in a headlock as the confrontation gets more physical.
Then, Kayne leaves like a cat burglar just about the time that paramedics and airport police rush to the scene.
Did the photographers provoke Kayne West? Probably. Does he have a right to assault anyone? Not from what I saw.
You wanna be a celebrity Mr. West, you need to grab your carry on bag and walk quietly to your car. You can smile, you can take the 5th. You can cast a glare of indignation that speaks volumes to the cameras trailing you.
But push someone, put someone in a headlock, smash a camera? I hope the court puts you in a legal head lock the likes of which will remind you that you are only rich because fame is a two way street.