Some actors reach greatness via pure commitment – shedding pounds, adding them, living in character for months on end, all but transforming into the role they’ve decided to play. Marlon Brando, Christian Bale, Daniel Day-Lewis, and if I may hazard an addition (a somewhat non-traditional nominee), the United States of America.
Can we nominate a whole country for an Oscar? A Tony? Can we do that? Can someone check on that? That’d be beautiful. You know what I mean? Beautiful. The best. Beautiful people, beautiful acting. Wow.
For approximately the past two years, my country, or the better part of it, at least, has stared into the mirror, and feigned astonishment, as if candidate-cum-President Donald J. Trump were some foreign creature, and how dare – how dare – such a being invade our most hallowed oval-shaped office?
My fellow Americans, let’s take a bow.
Our most recent thespian flourish – a good one – involves one Kanye O. West – beloved, reviled, mocked, feted, highly sought after rapper, virtuosic producer, fashion designer, inveterate loudmouth, and ultimately, an American hero. On April 25 of this year, Kanye tweeted: “You don’t have to agree with trump but the mob can’t make me not love him. We are both dragon energy. He is my brother. I love everyone. I don’t agree with everything anyone does. That’s what makes us individuals. And we have the right to independent thought.”
The internet, as it is wont to do, erupted in outrage. How could it, how could it be that the Louis Vuitton Don, Yeezus himself, husband of Kim Kardashian (noted sex-tape debutante, entrepreneur, reality tv star and all around cultural pox) could ally himself with Donald J. Trump, that wicked vulgarian, chauvinist, bully? The denunciations are still ringing from every corner, including some corners that used to contain Kanye West’s personal friends.