As Kanye West continues to be chill in the role of douchebag white businessman’s ally (despite the irony of having recently released the racially charged “Wash Us in the Blood“), he’s briefly moved on from displaying said “love” for Trump to instead showing it for Elon Musk, known dillhole and one of many delusionoids of the mindset that lockdowns and mask-wearing during a pandemic is a stiflement of American freedom. Of course, when you live in a bubble as a rich person, it’s difficult to remember that the “commoner” must interact more intimately (a.k.a. closely) with the hordes when forced into the public space without the cushion of fistfuls of cash to prevent them from getting too near the average riffraff.
Kanye, too, has forgotten this about Joe Public, along with his Marie Antoinette wife, who, of late, boasted of her recently acquired fourteen Friesian horses (misspelling it as Freesian to prove, once again, that in America, it’s not about brains but a congenital leg up on the ladder of wealth) for their Wyoming ranch. And yes, they’ve seemed to settle in Wyoming with as much a sense of entitlement as any 1800s pioneer, likely because Kanye’s recent deal with Gap is dependent upon his plans to set up production in Cody, Wyoming, a minimally populated town that will probably be renamed to Yeezyville after Kanye is done buying up large real estate holdings. In this regard, a friendship with Musk makes plenty of sense, for he, too, has dabbled in his fair share of “innovative” business ventures. If by innovative what is meant refers to plundering land, ousting OG residents and calling it a favor to economic growth in an “underdeveloped” area.
The most glaring thing about the photo of them, however, is not that they look as though they might pull out a gun on you if you don’t serve them as one of their consumers, but rather, the diminutive Grimes in the reflection of the glass encasement behind them that appears to be housing one of her avatars (of the variety she used for her latest album, Miss Anthropocene).
Framed in between both of them at that blow job level, the subservient symbolism of the image is almost as alarming as the Kanye caption, “When you go to your boys house and you’re both wearing orange” (because adding the appropriate apostrophe would have sent things over the top in that he already used the correct form of “you’re”). A reference to the orange fruit icon on the upper right corner of Musk’s black shirt and West’s orange fleece zip-up. Of course, where they were really matching–as all “relatable” billionaires do–was in their Yeezy sneakers, Musk in the Yeezy 500 High Slate model and Kanye in the Quantum Barium ones (in case you have a few extra hundred lying around to give a shit).
Grimes, presumably having already handed over X Æ A-Xii to the cyborgs responsible for uploading his mind-knowledge, might have been down to create an unwitting campaign ad for how to look like a complete tool, but there is something almost cultish in the nature of the picture. As though she’s been brainwashed into believing these men are truly her overlords.
Maybe Kim even already extracted some of her blood for both a binding ritual and a vampire facial. The only thing that’s clear is Grimes selling her soul (for ten million dollars via an exhibit at Maccarone in Los Angeles called, what else, “Selling Out”) really was just a performance, for she clearly lost it long ago in order to be amongst “great” men like these.
