Executive Partner: Kanye West 2024

How I Went From Unemployed With Thoughts of Suicide To Kanye West’s Campaign Manager

He told me, “Your resume is shit.”

I was asleep.

I was unemployed.

I was dead.

At least in my head.

There was nowhere to turn.

Ah, “So this is when people off themselves,” I thought.

I was crying unconsolably.

Or so I thought.

Chris Martin entered the room. And if that freaky little white man hadn’t done his elfin dances all around me, his Turn-Frown-Upside-Down potion he lovingly poured atop my head might not have worked. I might have killed myself.

I mostly doubt that. But that’s where my thinking was. Briefly. Luckily. It’s better to have your toe shocked by the icy temperature of the ocean on a 98 Degrees day than never to have touched the ocean at all. Touch the sky. Touch the ocean. Both are possible.

A day comes when you realize, wait — did the temperature of the ocean really hurt *that* much? Or was it mostly in my head?

The answer is, White America, that it’s mostly in your heads.

Now this is where I have felt punches against my skull too many times. I remember the time I heard a Harvard football player say to his cronies a remark that I *imagined* he said. The fact remains, in the 1990’s everything you said was NOT recorded. Today this would be all over Instagram because like Kanye West with God, this incident is evidence of what we’ve all known all along — Harvard University is unjust.

They mocked my form. Some remarked about my body. The four of them were comfortable looming over a lady. And with a sudden grace I grabbed a discarded pizza tray, covered in crumbs and cheese, and violently introduced it to the ring leader’s upper row of teeth. That was when I first came unstuck in time. I moved backwards forwards inwards outwards and outside it all, all at once.

I was drunk enough to listen to the one of 1000 voices in my head who piped up: “Hit him on the head.”

I thought the awkward disc would hit cranium. At the last second I feared it would hit temple, and kill him. But it was too late. I was not moving my hand. My hand had a different target in mind — his teeth.

I was pummeled by four Harvard mouth breathers, who , like me, were also discovered something new about themselves. They embodied the fact that they were more violent and terrifying than just their past height of gang rapist. This new level was murderer. The four young men, praised by our society, given red carpets for the remainder of their days on earth because, “They went to Harvard.”

That night, they nearly killed me.

But we were in a pizza shop.

In public.

Do you know what saves?

Public.

Do you know what kills?

Private.

Now. Here’s the challenge —

How do we balance that fact with another — Privacy matters above all else.

Kanye

“Your resume is shit.”

I could have quit on life because this goon was pulling an interview trick on me.

“Do you know how many servers the CIA leases from us?”

I didn’t know or care about the CIA. I just wanted them to share their software with my non-profit after school program.

Jerkwad was pulling a Harvard on me — If you don’t like where the conversation is going, make the speaker feel dumb.

I did quit.

Obviously, I did not kill myself (although, many dead walk among us from my first startup in 2000 when I helped people script their afterlives — they’re huge on Twitter today) that morning, not only thanks to Chris Martin, but to the 1100 other artists in my playlist that I looped into my head to a point of excession that my spouse had to seek a therapist.

We are all P@wn$

Resumes were never meaningful.

Resumes, for a time, were an industry.

Resumes, today, sell your experience to the highest bidder on LinkedIn.

Know who doesn’t used LinkedIn? The founders of LinkedIn. You think they want their employees to have THAT kind of insane control over them?? Just like Steve Jobs and Bill Gates not wanting their own children to use iPads (but in the case of Gates it was because he didn’t want his daughter to see his browsing history or read the emails from his friend Jeff.)

“Your resume is shit.”

“My resume is my life.”

“Well you wasted your life, then. Change that.”

“You arrogant prick. You think just because you employed Danny Kanyeman’s hard-won life’s work of uncovering the fact that closing scenes paint the entire movie that you can insult me, but end on a hopeful but obviously oh-so-insincere note of ‘Change’ that you can win me over? I’m going to burn this place to the ground.”

It took me 10 years to get back, like the love child of Odysseus and the Count of Monte Cristo that I am. I’m 10 weeks into introducing the virus to my employer’s master branch. Like my early customers who wrote perl scripts with me that automated our experience of their afterlife, the scripts I have set to run will start to execute on Halloween night. Just cuz you had job offers at Facebook and Google don’t mean you can think outside the box. Literally, the box. They want you in the office to control the contents of the box. But as Taleb taught us in his RWRI seminars — casinos who measure risk indoors miss the disgruntled employee setting bombs against the outside of the building.

You arrogant prick, I remind myself.

Hate fuels.

jeen-yuhs

Just because your Yale degree helped you get a girl who, at age 18, you imagined was light years out of your league, better capture her while I can, this opportunity will never come again, but now you cheat on her on the regular because you’re “bored” doesn’t mean you have any right to judge how I’ve spent my life.

You see failure, I see scary falls with soft landings in love. Every time I failed a hand reached up to comfort me. Sometimes it was a human hand, sometimes it was a joint, sometimes it was a funny clip of video, in the best of times it was my child’s hug.

If you’re angry about God

If the word “triggers” you

It’s only because you were given bad information.

We do not find God.

God finds us.

You ready?

Patience and The Real Pascal’s Wager are all that’s required.

Not soon after wanting to off myself, Killers came to save me. And a man name Jay. The Roots. Bleachers. Public Enemy. The Waterboys. Florence and her Machine. Quentin Tarantino. Trey. Phish. Friends.

Art saves live.

Kanye West

will be the first Hispanic President

BUT ALSO

Kanye West will be the first Artist President.

The world has long dreamed of a Philosopher King.

An Artist President is far better.

As Kanye West’s campaign manager and executive partner that is my promise to you — I will serve every minute of every day, from here until election day, November ’24, to deliver to you the first Artist President in the history of the United States, The World, The Universe.

Our children deserve inspiration.

Our children *are* the universe.

Call them God, call them The Universe, whatever you prefer, act like you mean it. Then someday? Stop pretending. Actually mean it.

Here is my resume, you have to NOT be from privilege to appreciate this:

• 30 years ago I secured the highest 1% of salaried positions upon graduating with a below average GPA from an elite university where I did not belong, but hacked my way into and out of.
• 29 years ago I hedged my first job with a second job, a pyramid scheme that, through the anger it generated in everyone around me, gave off powerful signal, just like Kanye West.
• 28 years ago I secured my second hedge, my third job (the people who raised me all worked an average of three jobs, they are the light of our society, and they literally and figuratively keep the lights on in America) at a startup, who claimed to want to create good in the world. (How young I was.)
• 27 years ago I converted my 35k p/yr job for 40k p/yr at the internship. I “sold” both the primary and secondary jobs. I ignored the corruption in the startup, still believing in the professed ideals.
• 26 years ago I witnessed first hand, the absurdity of the Internet-obsessed stock market (I blamed the tech stocks, never realizing Wall Street was the fraud all along. I would prove that 20 years later, but never could have seen that coming at the time.)
• 25 years ago the startup folded, and the founder, who liked me, gave me some of the money the bank wouldn’t find. I didn’t need it, so I gave it to my friend, who said he had no medical insurance and was about to get married to his longtime girlfriend, also a writer.
• 24 years ago I used my lingo from the pyramid scheme (“ACN”), lingo from the startup, and degree from ivy-like institution to secure a job with the best troupe of Improv Artists I’ve ever met: Andersen Consulting, who would later become… wait for it… can’t make this shit up… “ACN”.
• 19 years ago I announced to my handlers, who believed they were my owners, that their company, ACN, was, at root, as absurd a pyramid scheme as my former employer, ACN. They chose the crowd (who would later turn on them) over their friend, who had served side by side with them. Their loss.
• 18 years ago I learned poker.
• 17 years ago I saw exposed the parallel between gambling and stock market to my SIFI employer. They argued, but liked my company, so let me stay. I used the servers internal to the bank to research my new fund, a “cryptic” investment vehicle that actually was just sports betting in Costa Rica. What people don’t know about offshore gambling in the 2000’s is that it was simply a way to launder money AND avoid taxes. Best of both worlds! Draft Kings and the online shit is just a feeble attempt to catch baddies, but they’ve all moved on. Now housewives lose money betting on Tom Brady. #Sad
• 14 years ago I learned Python and called myself a “Data Scientist”, which revealed to me — as long as you use terms people don’t understand, you can call yourself anything (Trump confessed to me he does the same with “billionaire”.)
• 10 years ago I used Nassim Taleb’s teachings to invest in options.
• 7 years ago I bought something called Bitcoin. I told every last one of my family and friends about it. Know what they all said? “Ah, you’re fell for a pyramid scheme again, didn’t you.” That’s when I learned people see in patterns. Patterns must be shattered to truly learn and reach new destinations.
• 4 years ago my family and friends thought I retired because I was a bitcoin hundredmillionaire. They didn’t realize it was because I went head to head with a USD hundredmillionaire, lost faith in humanity, and entered a spiraling vortex of depression that would lead my contemplating suicide.
• 3 years ago I discovered Kanye West.
• 2 years ago I infiltrated an exclusive agency.
• 1 year ago I announced on Twitter that I would prove a miracle
• Today, I ask Kanye West to dot the i and help me prove the miracle. There is so much more to this story than anyone can possible believe, but my partner, President West, will help me reveal to you.

Dear Kanye, please consider me for the position of Digital Campaign Manager. My coworkers, who came from Obama’s campaign, believe AWS and Data won Obama the election.

They don’t know what I know.

Love Always,

Neddy Bly

Executive Partner
Digital Campaign Manager
Kanye West for President 2024

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