Zelda Fitzgerald had some talent. She could write a little, paint a little and pretty much dabbled in all the arts du jour. Still, the thing she’s most widely remembered for is the vampirization of her husband’s vast literary gifts.
Or maybe it’s even another literary offering that Kanye should explore, this time Michael Lewis’ Moneyball, when rendered on film. The scene in which the baseball scouts discuss the players’ girlfriends, suggesting that a player with an ugly girlfriend has no self-confidence. It would have been interesting to discover what those gentlemen felt about a girlfriend who wasn’t necessarily ugly, but who half of Major League Baseball had already smashed.
What happened to the spontaneous Kanye West? What happened to the spaz out Kanye? What happened to the “I’ma let you finish” or the “George Bush doesn’t care about Black people” Kanye? That hokey, bullshit, scripted play for attention on MTV, where Kanye declared that he’s running for President in 2020, reeked of one thing and one thing only; desperation.
And whose attention is Kanye desperate for? Could it be the fickle fans that have already started to see him as nothing more than his wife’s husband? Or could it be his wife herself? Lord knows, when you’re a married to a woman known in dating circles for “trading up” to the hotter guy, it would be in your better interest to be as hot as possible. Lord also knows that around every corner and at every moment lurks The Next True King.
You get the feeling that Beyonce, whose husband was once great friends with Kanye, was gambling on Kanye’s marriage failing when she decided that neither she nor her husband would attend his wedding. The reason one feels this way is because, although the move certainly drove a rift into the existing relationships of all the parties involved, should Kanye’s marriage indeed fail, he’ll have a place to run for the support of the people who wouldn’t simply smile in his face when they knew he was doing something fucked up and stupid.
And the fact that Kanye’s even doing the whole “no-talent white girl” thing in this day and age is further evidence that he’s lost his footing. To know what kind of women are in vogue, look no further than the current batch of top professional athletes.
It was the 80s when the Charles Barkleys and the Doc Rivers’ and the Mike Singletarys ruled with no-name white girls on their arms. Today, we’ve got LeBron and Steph Curry and Richard Sherman. Even Seahawks quarterback Russell Wilson ditched his anonymous blonde wife saying to himself, “Hey, wait a minute… maybe I’m on the wrong side of this fence! Ciara baby, whatchu doin’ for the next, say… rest of my career?”
Is it then a small coincidence that another circa 1980s Black male superstar athlete that left his Black wife to marry a blonde waitress is, at the very least, indirectly responsible for the rise of Kanye’s in-laws?
(Holla back, Orenthal)
And this isn’t a knock on all Black male/white female relationships, just the Black-male-superstar/white-girl-nothing ones.
If a couple is equally yoked, then they go with God’s grace and I bow my head in something close to reverence. And in the cases where she’s the talent, like, say, Olivia Williams’ beautiful ass and that brother she’s married to… shiii… I’d stand in front of Django’s gun to protect that fine bitch!
But back to Kanye… wait a minute, who is Kanye again? What does, or at least, what did he ever do?