January 25, 2015—Kanye West felt “Humbled for the first time.” Where were you for this historic moment? I was eating junior mints. His proclamation was made in some awards thing or something, I don’t know, look it up. Either way, you should have heard his supreme declaration of mega-humility resonating off of every mountain or angular hill, as he is the greatest human ever of all time.

Says who? Says Kanye.

“I am Warhol. I am the No. 1 most impactful artist of our generation. I am Shakespeare in the flesh.”

Kanye West is 100—no—200% right. He is the voice of a generation; a force of genius able to transcend the realms of reason and mathematical accuracy. No one is better suited to have their genius showcased in full than Kanye West—even if he can’t spell it (his own admission).

“But strange hairy person Matt, isn’t this Kanye West a tremendous idiot, slower than a sloth in a snowstorm?”

To which I would say, yes, obviously. But consider this: out of all the stupidity that is showcased on twitter/facebook/any of our modern, regrettably fast social media outlets, Kanye West towers above all others. He’s not just a moron—he’s a mystical moron, capable of stupidity so mind-numbing that it’s often transcendent.

Within his being, Mr. West contains a stunning combination of narcissism and humorlessness; ingredients for the perfect patsy. What would normally be odd little blurbs of self-absorption, such as the frequent references that Kanye West makes about himself being a living God, become absolutely stunning when you realize that he believes every word of it. Just look at how offended he becomes when anyone—yes, anyone—makes fun of him. His skin’s thinner than a dainty French pear. French pears are quite delicate. I ate one once. It was funderful.

“But annoying writerly guy, what’s your major malfunction? So you don’t like Kanye West. Just let it go. You’re probably just jealous he’s rich/famous/petty—a hater, they call it. You’re a smelly uber hater who probably suffers from halitosis.”

Quite contrary, my imaginary opponent. More wronger you could not be. I’ve been buying his albums at every opportunity I have. I’m more than happy to fork over money to Mr. West. Why? Because I believe in what he’s doing.

Much in the same way that people donate to charities on a basis of principal, I buy Kanye West’s albums because I desperately want to provide some small donation to keep him going, and so that I can say to myself “Hey, you see that stupid thing he’s doing? That thing that’s so unbelievable that it must be a joke, but probably isn’t? I have a one trillionth share in it!” Kanye West can’t see the humor in himself, but I can. And I can appreciate his genius on a totally different level. Sorry, children of the world. Yeezus got my $12.99.

Granted, one could make the extrapolation that, as a supporter of such an inane individual, I myself probably have brain power that is, at best, sub-human. To this I can offer no counter argument. It seems like a legitimate assessment. But I don’t care, because according to Kanye West, if I like what he does, then I like myself, because he’s like, omnipotent or something. Which is hella radical and so forth.

Update: this article has been updated to change the writer name from “Will Nacouzi” to “Matt Pacelli”.