Dear Kanye West,
Thank you so much for your show last night. It touched me in ways that I think are illegal in some states. I had arrived at the Rose Garden expecting my mind to be blown and you met those expectations, Mr. West, you did indeed.
Now, unlike some people on staff at the Mercury, I’m not going to talk about the glowing balls that called you “the greatest star in the Universe.” Cause, like you said at the end of your set, that’s not what your show was all about. No, Mr. West, you gave us your heart and soul. For, like, an hour and a half you gave us heart and soul… And Journey… And lesbians (though I’m reluctant to call them holographic because they were clearly two dimensional).
Mr. West, when you told us that you had mental and emotional problems in your night ending rant, I could totally relate. I, too, have such problems, like you wouldn’t believe. I too get pissed at the haters and the critics. Oh, I’ve gotten letters, Mr. West, angry foodie letters. Have you ever received an angry foodie letter? Those bitches are bitter!
But I digress. Mr. We… Kanye. May I call you Kanye? Look, I do believe that what you are doing is art. It’s a great big show and people are taking that shit too seriously. We had a good time! Like, remember when we were doing call and response during Good Life and you let me yell, “Got more ass than the models?” That was awesome! And then you were all, like, “Throw your hands up!” And I threw my hands up and waved them around and screamed and screamed and… yeah, that was cool too.
But basically, Kanye, I just wanted to say you rocked it last night and you shouldn’t pay attention to all those reviews. I mean, all you have to do is just look out into the audience and gaze upon all those concert tees you sold and know you are loved. I mean, you’re giving people hope. Don’t stop believing, Kanye. Don’t stop.
Love,
Patrick