Who’s in charge of revoking Southern membership?
We need to find him and tell him to kick Atlanta-born Kanye West out of our club.
No right-thinking Southern man would pick a fight with a girl, much less a flaxen-haired, alabaster-skinned, doe-eyed teenage girl who sings pop ditties sweeter than Froot Loops and about as filling.
But there Kanye was, snuffing the light right out of poor little Taylor Swift’s eyes and wiping the sparkle from her grin when he dissed her on live TV last Sunday during the MTV Video Music Awards.
Bless her little country heart.
He may as well have pulled the wings off Tinkerbell.
He may as well have killed Bambi’s mother.
Some are wondering if Kanye’s hijacking of Taylor’s acceptance speech to spout his anger over Beyoncé’s loss was a publicity stunt.
I would have said that no sane-thinking person would make himself look like an ad for reverse evolution for the sake of publicity, but then I remembered Johnny Knoxville and Jon Gosselin.
The gist of some bloggers’ claims is that Kanye’s CD sales were going south and now he has an excuse to disappear from the limelight and get his act together.
I’m thinking the man who dressed in a crown of thorns for a magazine cover does not feel the need for excuses.
That, plus wearing sunglasses at night, requiring a tow-truck-chain for the bling around his neck and referring to himself in third person, are indicators that Kanye does not feel the need to excuse anything he does.
He apparently thinks he’s so special there should be a blue light over his head.
What’s that Chinese proverb? He who is his own biggest fan has a mule’s hindend for a fan club president, or something like that.
Here’s someone we can vote to take Kanye’s place when we kick him out of the South: Jay Leno.
Who knew the nasal-voiced, New York native had enough Southern mama running through his veins to not only play the “what would your mama think” card, but to play the “what would your dead mama think” card?
Jay had Kanye blubbering and stammering like, well, like Taylor Swift at the VMAs.
Despite her doe-stepping-into-the-hunting-blind look, Taylor handled the incident with grace and maturity.
She even went on The View to discuss her feelings and I personally think it takes more nerve to survive those shrews, er, women than to facedown a rapper with a Jesus complex.
The upside is, Taylor now has material for a new song, something with more grit than her teeny-bopper tunes like “Love Story.”
Then again, little Taylor would have a hard time pulling off the angst-ridden, Alanis Morisette thing so maybe it would be best if everyone told her it was all a bad dream.
Bless her little doe-eyed heart.
Kelly Kazek
Let's kick Kanye West out of the South
- Kelly Kazek
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What are smart phones really planning?
You may think I still use eight-track cassettes and BETA tapes, too, but, no, it’s only with phones that I draw the line. I have my reasons. Hear me out.
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Biography of Kelly Kazek
Kelly Kazek was born in Warner Robins, Ga., in whichever year adds up to her being 35.
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Surreal episode irks orchestra director
When the iPhone’s common ringtone, which is supposed to sound like that well-known musical instrument the marimba, went off during a performance of the New York Philharmonic last Tuesday, the conductor was highly irked, incensed and rankled, or in philharmonic terms, seriously cheesed.
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Lucy smarter than the average dog
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Having daughter home from college an experience
During Shannon’s first long visit home at Thanksgiving, I realized we were having a communication problem, namely she doesn’t think she has to communicate what time she’ll be home at night.
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A single mom’s dream before Christmas
Note: This column by Kelly Kazek was initially published Christmas Eve 2006 in The News Courier.
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It's here: Annual Guide to Seriously Weird Christmas Gifts
Then, shoo, skedaddle, vamoose. Go watch football or pull someone’s finger or whatever it is you guys do. But do not read this column!
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Dieter's blue plate includes Cookie Monster cupcake
Finally, after all these years I have learned the excuse, er, reason for my weight gain: my plate.
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After reading about the dastardly deeds committed so far this year in the name of peace on earth, I am starting a petition to send to Santa. I am asking him to change his list categories from “naughty” and “nice” to “naughty,” “nice enough,” “purty good,” and “too stupid to be wasting Rudolph’s oxygen.”
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