dear mr. west /yeezy,

first, i would like to start this letter off by congratulating you on a really great album!

now, there are some thing i need to get off my chest … this is your year at coachella to redeem yourself from the shit show you pulled a couple years back. just in case you forgot how it went down, let me refresh your memory.

unfortunately, you had a pretty terrible time slot. it was around 3pm- ish and well over 100 degrees. this alone could make anyone really irritable. i clearly remember the group of  friends i was with refusing to see you perform, and i was your cheerleader reminding them that, yes, you can be a pompous asshole and say stupid shit (the president hates black people) but you’ve rapped through the wire! you straight up had your jaw sealed shut! that’s bananas! you’re an artist!

so i personally was very excited to see your set. i can’t even recall which song(s) you played because you had soooo much to say that day. you’re a talker, mr. west. i get it. sometimes i don’t know when to shut the hell up; but i’m not being paid to play music. you are.

you proceeded to put on some random 80’s song and dance like molly ringwald. you mocked us “hipster” kids. well, guess what? those 30 thousand hipster kids saved up over 300 bucks to hear some music. don’t make fun of us! when it was all over with i still stood up for you, reminding others how hot it was, and making up stupid excuses on your behalf. but really you let me down. hell, even when you embarrassed the shit outta taylor swift i said, “he’s drunk—and her hair sucks. she’ll get over it.”

i am really hoping that this year you will stick to what it is that you do best: play music. so pull it together and play a great show. if it doesn’t go so well, you will officially have to accept my resignation as your unfaltering cheerleader.

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