in an uncommon revelation, God came down to the south side of chicago to speak directly to musician kanye west last night. although the press corps arrived with an arsenal of questions for the then-disputed being, God had only one matter to address.
“i honestly thought hard about doing this. i prayed on it — but then was like ok…who you praying to?”
as a flock of cameras and boom microphones frenzied to capture the disembodied sound coming from a shapeless vapor near Regents Park, wind swirled at impossible speeds, sweeping broadcast antennae into the angry sky.
“i wanted to confirm that some of the rumors about me are true. i am good. all the time. i definitely do not give one care about what you do here…it’s like watching reality t.v. for an eon. your storylines get old so fast. plus, what is this thing ‘selfies’ everybody’s doing? gross.”
one intrepid soul, a journeyman copy editor from the spokane register, bravely spoke on behalf of his colleagues, some muffled by shock, others cowering in fear. gary mcguinness fixed his leaning tie and yellow collar, shuffled gingerly into the plaza where the voice was booming and asked, “Then why?”
“i’m only here to address one person. usually it’s no big deal what you choose to call me or put my name behind. humanity been known to attach me, and whatever it is i’m supposedly doing, to your war and disease and greed and famine. like i somehow commissioned that. i just live and let live. but there’s one gentleman, from this area, whom i must speak to immediately before the rest of you get me twisted.”
“kanye omari west, keep my name out ya mouth, dude, word. the last time i spaketh — and this is generous — i was badly paraphrased — so i don’t wan’t any mistakes here. for real for real, i like your music and everything…the stuff is inspired. i was there for a lot of it. and believe, i’m a let you finish. but please. on everything, on my life, i need you to really keep my name out ya mouth, family.”
uncertain scribes penned notes as the voice seemed to cleared its throat. the air stood still, allowing the last point about west not mentioning the deity’s name to settle on minds.
“there was the standard, i gotta whole lotta money so i feel like god thing you did when you got famous. again, no hate. matter fact, me and vishnu have a pride joke you should hear, but i swear jesus tells it way better…i’m laughing thinking about it.”
“anyway, kings and rock stars calling themselves ‘gods’ makes us sneeze milk and honey. that is so absurd…but in terms of kanye west and whatnot, you really don’t need to be invoking my name for certain projects at this point.”
“i’ll keep it a hundred per cent omnipresent with you and admit to having some hand in the success of College Dropout and Late Registration. i’m not running around like ‘hey did you check out God’s Divine Grace on that new Kanye?’ or whatever but i’m not turning down credit for those either, ya know?”
ashleigh gaillard, a bedazzled anchor from the boston herald, crept forward, careful not to lift her gaze from the cement. knowing ashleigh’s point of inquiry before she uttered a word, God spoke, freezing her where she was.
“no, ashleigh, this is not the end. unlike every. other. thing. in your brain. this doesn’t have to do with you. walter’s not coming back. he’s marrying courtney because he knows you can’t have kids and she can. happy? wanna take a step back while i address Yeezy for like two seconds? thanks.”
“like i was saying before ashleigh’s pride interrupted,” (gaillard felt God’s invisible glare on her) “i have nothing to do with you wanting to design water bottles, kanye west. and leather jogging pants? come on. i created the cosmos and you’re comparing that to inventing unreasonably warm pants, bro? uh huh. ok. try making oceans. like just one ocean and we can talk.”
God went on to explain disappointment with the Yeezus album as a title and a collection of sounds, saying that the sound of dolphins giving birth dwarfs west’s entire catalog. throughout the entity’s speech, it repeatedy insisted that no words be etched in stone.
“while i’m here, i need you to know, and i repeat, that i have soooooo much love for you. no matter what. big hugs, i mean it. certain stuff rubs me the wrong way, but i let it slide because it only hurts you, really. like, i’d call kris jenner my frenemy, to put it lightly, but again, i’m not here to judge. contrary to popular belief.”
“kanye, you’ve spent a lot of time meditating on and requesting your place in history. now that i’ve returned to earth, and had my piece, congratulations, you will be known for all time.
“but let no person alter my decree, nor may any mortal question what was uttered today. kanye west, you are not like me, and you can’t get like me. if i hear you in these streets talking reckless, dog, about me or my cousins or anybody like that, i’ma be so mad i won’t even know what to do. but i can foresee a lot of clapping as i talk and aggressive stomps. yours truly, the Alpha and the Omega.”
alas, the people did rejoice.