Close your eyes and imagine with me: Before you are two dads, one recent, one not so recent. They’re here to sell you some harebrained invention, something about a robot angel that delivers shoes that are also cars to hungry children living in the core of the moon. Their names are Elon Musk and Kanye West. They claim to be the greatest living inventor and designer, geniuses plucked from an alternate dimension where science is God and the pursuit of knowledge and perfection are the purpose of humanity. As you listen to them speak, you begin to take in what they’re wearing. Are those... bootcut jeans? And a wrinkled and cheaply screen printed black t-shirt? And what’s going on with the orange bomber jacket and leather-look pants. Weren’t these guys supposed to be the peak of human perfection?
I’m joking, of course. Elon Musk and Kanye West are, like anyone, “just some dudes.” Dudes that, like any other dude, build spaceships and host remote church services with rich celebrities and raise capital investments for their “self-driving cars” or fashion brands. This is just what these dudes dress like!
Now, I’m not about to foist anymore work on either Grimes or Kim Kardashian. One already had to deal with their boyfriend fighting just about everyone on the internet over his right to name their baby Drone Bomb just hours after giving birth. And the other? Well, she’s got her hands full taking pictures of their 14 horses. No wonder they rolled out of bed looking like this! There was no one around to tell them they look like they used Elon Musk’s time travel machine to go digging through the clearance bin at H&M sometime in 2013.
Moving our eyes just slightly, I’d like everyone to take note of what appears to be not one, but two Hajime Sorayama statues behind these dudes. They don’t quite look like a scale model of the massive hot robot lady commissioned for Dior’s pre-fall 2019 runway—the headgear and pose are all wrong—but it’s pretty damn close!
More important, however, is the faint reflection of Grimes herself through the statue’s glass case. She is either taking an incredibly-too-close selfie, snapping pics of her boyfriend’s butt, or zooming in on his incredibly wrinkled t-shirt, which definitely could have used some more fabric softener and maybe even a lint roller. But that’s just Grimes, isn’t it? A specter haunting Musk’s too-big mansion, slowly tracing the cold metallic surfaces encircling her and wondering when her man will stop fighting with gay communists in his Twitter mentions or accusing random passersby of being pedophiles.
She looks a bit lonely, don’t you think? It’s probably because Kim still isn’t answering her texts about “hanging out.”