A Letter To North West
By Lee Bemrose
Dear North,
Look, Mum and Dad are probably not going to say anything because basically they are completely out of touch with reality... ironic given that your mum, as far as I can tell, is only famous for being in a reality TV show. You need to understand that your parents are freaks and not really very good examples of well-adjusted human beings. He's a misogynistic narcissist and she's just... I'm sorry but I really don't know why you mother is. She's quite possibly a nice person, or a nice “bitch” as your dad probably calls her. Personally I think he's just making do because we don't yet have reliable cloning technology and he can't clone, marry and make tender love to himself. Man, when they get that technology right, he'll be out of there so fast.
And while that day might be sad for you, it will be kind of nice for the rest of us because while your dad is enthusiastically making tender love to himself he will finally, mercifully, stop making what he calls “music”. Oh God – have you heard his latest effort? Oh dear. Seriously. Some of the critics are even taking it seriously when quite clearly he is, as we say down here in Australia, taking the piss. He's just putting some really dumb lyrics to some really annoying sounds and laughing about all the attention it's getting. That Blood On The Leaves track? With the Nina Simone sample? And all that auto-tune shit? It's just shit. Rolling Stone can cream in their pants all they like, but the whole thing is a joke.
Well, Black Skinhead is kind of all right with its glam rock beat. Credit where it's due. And I Am A God is weirdly... weird. But it's okay. Although I think he really believes he actually is a god. It's almost funny but ultimately really relevant, that stuff about being a god and hurry up with my damn croissant, because if you're a god you still want your croissant when it's warm and fluffy and crispy on the outside and buttery on the inside... the fight between good and evil can wait because that shit is pretty eternal, but croissants? They needto be fresh. And yet this whole concept of gods and croissants, and the thing about hurry up with my damn menage and putting the Porsche in the damn garage... oh fuck me, North, your dad is basically Keats reincarnated. But with a sense of humor. Oh the funny fucker he is. He likes to act all strutty and menacing, but he's really very cute and funny. He just needs to work on his delivery because as funny as his material is, you just can't tell that he's actually taking the piss. He takes the whole deadpan thing to a new level and it just leaves people confused. It's like, “What he just said was hilarious... but look at that glowering countenance... is he being funny or not? Yeah he is... no... oh I just can't tell. I'm so confused.”
More about your mom. She... no, sorry, I still don't know why she is. Why in the hell do I even know her name? I have absolutely no idea what she does. Sorry about that. I'll do some research.
So back to your dad, which is where he'd like this to go anyway. Try not to hold your silly name against him. I know, I know; you weren't out of the womb before he was giggling, slapping his knee and making you the butt of a joke. He couldn't wait to give you a silly name because like I said, just give Yeezusa listen to fully appreciate what a colossal sense of humor the man has. In your dad's mind, he's the star of his own sitcom. He's Seinfeld and you're a little baby George Costanza. You're Barney Rubble to his Fred Flintstone, you little knucklehead. Best roll with it because if you tell him you just wanted a regular name he'll probably just bitch-slap you and tell you to stop being such a bitch and shut the fuck up, bitch and by the way, where's my damn croissant? Bitches don't be givin' God Kanye no shit before they've sorted out his damn croissant. Bitch.
Besides, North West... hee hee hee. You can't beat a bit of compass humor. It's the best. And you are lucky to be the first. South and East will even strike it lucky. It's your third sibling West who I really feel for.
And what happens after that? What if they have five? There are only four points on the compass! Like, total head implosion!
Okay, back to your mom. I've done some research on your mom and she is definitely famous, but no one knows why. She's more mysterious than the Masons. She's harder to figure out than an Agatha Christie novel. She's like the Bermuda motherfucking Triangle.
It's a weird world you're being brought into, little North. I hear they're planning to nickname you Nori. I hope that works out for you. They've probably stitched up a deal for a reality TV show centred around you. You're basically never going to know what normal is. If you come out of this thing with your sanity intact... if you make it to adulthood with a level head and a sense of balance and don't see yourself as the center of the entire universe and totally fuck yourself over on booze and drugs, it will be a full blown, motherfucking miracle.
But then you are North West, daughter of Kanye West who is a rap god fashion icon... croissant god, and Kim Kardashian who is... who is Kim Kardashian, so... erm... yeah no you really don't have much of a chance, do you.
