By Jacob Katel
By Laurie Charles
By Nate "Igor" Smith
By Abel Folgar
By Kat Bein
By Jacob Katel
August 22, 2010
Dear Sir or Madam:
My name is Kanye West. I am writing to inform you of my plans to matriculate at the illustrious Chicago State University again. Yes, I'm that guy, the one who talked mad shit about higher education on College Dropout and Late Registration. But that was then and this is now.
Ever since my fifth album (The Fifth-Year Senior) tanked earlier this year, I've had a lot of time to pray and think about my future. Enclosed you will find materials that I believe show I'm an ideal candidate for resuming studies at CSU.
Love and respect,
Attachment 1: Official Application
Last name: West
First name: Kanye
Birth date: June 8, 1977
Gender: Please. Do the words Magnum and in your mouth mean anything to you?
Citizenship: United States, unless President Jeb Bush has anything to say about it. Shit, and I thought his brother didn't care about black people.
Permanent address: I'm kinda crashing at my mom's place in Skokie right now. But it's just temporary.
Intended major: Undecided. Whatever will help me get my diamond-encrusted Jesus pendant out of hock.
Attachment 2: Personal Essay
What would you change about your life if you had known then what you know now?
Kick your shoes off and stay awhile; this may take a minute. Make no mistake I had style. My early albums had substance, too, but not nearly enough to keep the U.S.S. Kanye afloat forever. Sure, I had some legitimate tracks on College Dropout and Late Registration, but the rest was filler, pure and simple. And it wasn't even my caulk filling most of the holes. Christ, on Late Registration alone I had cameos from Jamie Foxx, Common, Game, Consequence, Cam'ron, Nas, Really Doe, GLC, and Paul Wall. Not to mention (sigh) the dude from Maroon 5. But the fact that I was sugarcoating my own flows with the Hip-Hop Yellow Pages didn't turn people off nearly as much as my conspiracy theories.
I'll admit I was a little paranoid. Shit, who wasn't in 2005? Nonetheless I chased people off. They were fine with my saying the government didn't care about black folks. They grinned and bore it. But when I began saying the Michelin Man killed Tupac, and Twinkie the Kid was tapping my phones, people thought I went too far. I still see a white Hostess van tailing me sometimes, but what are you going to do? Snack cakes are bigger than the police.