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Kanye and Dropout BearDropout Bear rolled his eyes as Kanye West looked up incredulously from his ironically–named smart phone. “Yo DB, can you believe this sh*t? Supposedly some wack scientists in Switzerland found something called the Higgs boson particle by putting atoms in a blender and smashing them together. They talkin’ ‘bout how it’s some kind of “God Particle” that explains how particles gain mass. Ainght they ever heard “Jesus Walks? That sh*t wasn’t about Ray Allen leaving the Celtics, nah mean,” chuckled West, frequently the only one to laugh at his own jokes.

Dropout Bear, sensing another diatribe, attempted to diffuse the situation: “You know, Kanye, those scientists used the most powerful particle accelerator in the world, the Large Hadron Collider at CERN in Switzerland, hardly the tool of a “wack scientist.”

Kanye West, brow furrowed and deep in thought, suddenly looked agitated. They call that the “God Particle? I’m the God Particle, not that stupid smashed atom. Don’t you know who I am? First Taylor Swift, now this?” West pulled out a flask full of Hennessey and took a large swig. “They may have protons, but I got Pro Tools,” he snarled angrily. “They better not win the Nobel Peace Prize for that, they been passing me over for years. Buncha haters, hating me cuz I shine. I’m the Don Draper of this rap sh*t, my metaphors and similes don’t have to make sense.”

Dropout Bear sighed, silently cursing the day he was born. “My cousin Ted got to star in that movie with Marky Mark, and I’m stuck with this clown. And it’s all because he dropped out of college.” Kanye continued to rant, yelling about how Air Yeezy’s were better than Air Jordans and how Kobe Bryant was right about the Dream Team. Dropout Bear began to drift off into one of his trances, and thought back to that fateful day…

It was a beautiful spring morning, and a young Bachelor Bear awoke to a glorious sunrise and an empty stomach. Yawning, he jumped down from his bunk bed and walked across the dorm room to the mini-fridge. Opening the door, he looked for the coconut-crusted donuts he had bought the night before, to no avail. He angrily turned to his roommate who was asleep on the bottom bunk.

“Kanye, did you eat the last of my donuts?” said Bachelor Bear.

“Nah yo,” said West, as he turned away, a trail of donut crumbs covering his sheets. “I took your donuts, but I improved upon them so they became mine. Then I ate them.”

Bachelor Bear shook his head, and angrily left the room to get some breakfast. Upon returning to the dorm room, Kanye was sitting on the edge of his bed, bobbing his head to Dr. Dre’s “Xplosive” and reading “The Great Gatsby.”

“This beat is so hard, BB, I can’t stop bobbing my head. This Dr. Dre, he’s so NOW. Just like this F. Scott Fitzgerald, what a great novel,” said West.

“Real music is timeless,” said Bachelor Bear, ignoring the Great Gatsby comment.

“Dre has some great hits from “The Chronic,” too, have you ever heard that?”

“Nah, forget that old sh*t,” said West. “The only thing old music is good for is sampling it for new music. As a matter of fact, I’m working on a new beat but I can’t figure out the drums. So I takes the drums to Xplosive, speed it up, and voila. Perfect music.”

Bachelor Bear shrugs his shoulders. “What are you trying to do, be the next Puff Daddy? Go find a superstar rapper to produce for, ride his coattails, sample old tracks and even started rapping although you know you’re terrible at it?”

As soon as Bachelor Bear said that, he knew he would later regret it. Kanye’s eyes got wider than Biggie’s wasteline and he shrieked like a ring-tailed lemur. “That’s it!” said West, yelling “We’re going to be hip hop superstars!” He skipped out the door to English class.

Kanye burst through the door to his Freshman English class, almost knocking down a young girl from Nashville in his haste. “Outta my way, you shade thrower!” he yelled at the frightened girl. “You like a tree blocking the sun from the grass; now get out my way, I have to drop out of class!” She looked confused and meekly sat at her desk. Kanye turned his attention to the teacher, who stood by her desk at the front of the classroom.

“Yo momz, I’m sorry, but I’m dropping out. I’m going to be the Great Gatsby of rap. I figured out the algorithm.”

“Kanye, honey,” said his mother “is this like the time you wanted to be an R&B singer but found out that you can’t sing? And you obviously didn't finish "The Great Gatsby" - you know he gets into a car accident at the end, right? School is very important to your father and I. Would you like us to send you to an Ivy League school instead?”

“Mommmm,” said Kanye. “I told you to call me Yeezy. And I don’t have to be able to sing, they have this program called Auto Tune now.”
“Well, whatever you decide to do, your father and I support you,” said Kanye’s mother. “Just remember where you came from and always act respectful towards other musicians and remain humble.”

“I’ll be the most humble rapper of all time,” said Yeezy. “Of all time…”

Dropout Bear snapped back into the present as Kanye yelled out “I’m NOW. That stupid Higgs boson, people will forget about it in a month. My songs are timeless, and my music is G.O.O.D.”

Dropout Bear turned to face Kanye West, his lip curled in a snarl. “You don’t make good music. What is one timeless song you have ever made? Does anyone still play “Through the Wire?” How about “Jesus Walks?” “Stronger?” Your songs have a shorter shelf-life than the Higgs boson particle. They should have kept your mouth wired shut!”

Kanye looked up, shocked at Dropout Bear’s criticism. A tear slowly dripped down his cheek from behind his monstrous sunglasses. He tore his glasses from his face and threw them with all his might across the room. “F*cking shade throwers! A buncha haters! Hate, hate hate. That’s all I ever get. Why? I’m the greatest ever.”

“Kanye, you are such a tool,” said Dropout Bear. “Only you could think dropping out of school was cool.” “Yo, DB, I’m stealing that line for my next song, that sh*t tough,” said Yeezy, as he hurried off to buy himself and Kim Kardashian some new sunglasses.

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne ceaselessly into the past.

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