"I'll go out and meet with everyone in San Fran and they'll dis the f-ck outta me!"
-- Kanye West, Feb. 11, 2016
Oooooohhhhhhh you don't know the half of it, Kanye.
I mean, sure, any grand premiere by you is sure to leave viewers shellshocked by inanity -- so much that whatever tatters of your once-thriving musical genius remain are, like, buried completely. But today's Yeezy Season 3 at Madison Square Garden, debuting a new collection of torn sweaters and an aggressively mediocre new album, called -- I'm serious -- The Life of Pablo?! I know you love your outsized id on majestic display, but come on, how much more scattered, crass, hypocritical and exhausting can you get from here?
Look, you've got 20,000 paid fans in the building. You're livestreaming all over the world. You've got dozens of models dressed in your burlap whatever-the-hell-it-is. ALL THESE PEOPLE ARE PUTTING IN TIME AND SWEAT AND ADHERING TO YOUR DEMANDS. And you waltz in the room playing second fiddle to a pile of tittering cotton balls and a scripted Made-for-TV-E!-Online-TMZ-Perez-Hilton-Every-Stupid-Tabloid-Ever moment walking Lamar Odom up to his seat with Khloe? And you open a laptop to play an album that seems like it was finished 10 minutes before showtime? You rehearse nothing, because hey, I'M KANYE, I JUST GO FOR IT?
This wouldn't hurt so much if it weren't for your past glories. Your most recent was your most glorious. Even your lack of filter was once a great thing. You issued uncensored the thoughts that most of us were too scared to say; you said things we found especially refreshing for a celebrity to say. But "George Bush doesn't care about black people" eventually gave way to "I made it so we could wear tight jeans" which gave way to, a-f'ing-hem, "BILL COSBY INNOCENT !!!!!" And you're calling this a gospel album.