Like the other 150,000,000 people who voted for him, I’m happy with how Yeezy is running this country. Our economy and military have become harder, better, faster, and stronger in responding to foreign aggression. The brilliant financial strategies of the new Fed Chair Pusha T have stopped inflation and reduced the pre-existing economic conditions that created the infamous Gold Diggers. 

However, I can’t ignore the Pablo Bill which has given us a new national anthem–his 2016 hit song, “Father Stretch My Hands, Pt. 1”. I have a few reservations.

Don’t get me wrong, this is a great song overall! Metro Boomin wows on production, just like he did on our previous anthem, but unlike Francis Scott Key’s lyricism, things take a turn with the verse:

Now if I [fornicate with] this model

And she just bleached her [anus]

And I get bleach on my t-shirt

I’mma feel like an [anus]

The grandiose production is fitting here, but references to bleached assholes “haven’t been seen in an anthem since the ancient Hittite Empire,” according to Smithsonian historians. During a press conference to discuss the new song, West stated that “Asshole-bleaching is a practice that all must learn about eventually, and I see no reason why it should be kept from our great anthem.”

Despite other songs, such as “No More Parties in L.A.” and “Runaway”, being suggested, West insisted that his chosen song was the “most relevant to the American ethos” and “wouldn’t require any additional n-word passes to be printed” says Secretary of State Travis Scott.

I’ll follow Kanye even if he becomes addicted to porn and nitrous, goes on an ego trip and alienates his family and fans, becomes racist and antisemitic, and does anything short of certain cancellation. Yut there’s a small, deeply irrational part of me that can’t help but find something wrong with singing about a certain model and her certain anal operation for somber and patriotic occasions.