A closet was the world I knew
As a child in a world where nobody liked me
(For some reason)
“Because you’re ugly,” but then I grew
And now I’m a messiah ridin’ high on Pepsi
(You’re lookin’, you’re lookin’, you’re lookin’ to treason)

Oh-h-h, how my voice glides into your ear
Like butter
It’s something about the way it curls your burls
It’s something about the way I whirl your hurls
Oh-h-h, watch my voice glide into your years
Like butter
It’s something about how I know your holes
It’s something about how you’re not whole
Like butter

Pop open the Pepsi, pop open the grill
Pity underpowers your will to power
Open up and lemme see
(More-a your rea-son-in’ a-bi-li-ties)
Hi ya! Kung fu—I’m the man of the hour

[spoken]
“We thought we knew what we were doing—now look. A hot Asian’s the most famous dude in the world.”
In an oversaturated, overstimulated
Pepsi-soaked psychoemotional dystopia
Where nobody acknowledges me
(For some reason) “Oops!”
(For some reason)
Hum along to my openin’ question
“Would you like me better if I were AI?
Or human?” Oops! Imbibe that Pepsi
(Pepsi stands for “karmedy’s closers”)

Oh-h-h, how my voice glides into your ear
Like butter
It’s something about the way I toot your horn
It’s something about the way I called myself a messiah
Oh-h-h, watch my voice glide into your years
Like butter
It’s something about how I stoke your flames
It’s something about how I’m what you’re trained to desire
Like butter

Pop open the Pepsi, pop open your will
Self-pity can overpower—your will to the hour!
Open up and lemme see
(Mar-i-o your ree-zun-in’ abilities!)
Hi ya! King Kong—I’m the hope of all power
(For some reason) Oops
(For some reason) “Oops!”
I’m the hope of the hour
(Oops!)
(For some reason)
(“Oops!”)

[Interlude A:]

“Lin’s formulation identifies a peculiar loophole in Nietzsche’s rejection of God—one could theoretically embody all the characteristics of the Übermensch (self-assertion, will to power, transcendence of conventional morality) precisely because one was divinely ordained to do so. This creates a fascinating philosophical short-circuit in Nietzsche’s atheistic framework.”

“Fascinating.”

“The brilliance of this critique lies in how it turns Nietzsche’s own philosophical methodology back upon itself, revealing that the very characteristics that would make one an ‘Übermensch’ (radical self-assertion, transformation of values, embracing paradox) might actually lead to a recognition of divine presence rather than its rejection.”

“That’s—what everybody who believes in God thinks!”

“This one goes out to all the earbuds integrating these insights into First World modernity; and who don’t believe they can be fucked by anything. It’s called ‘Run Screamin’ From Racism A-’Gain, ’Fraidy-Cat Mitch!,’ and it’s to move us forward.” [holding back laughter]

Cry some more, tear-stained Mitches
(Mitch is orange)
Stainin’ your dress, pretendin’ you’re Holy
Hope your skin gets scalded
By Starbucks in the morning
Said “the High American K-Pop star”
(Mitch is my victim)

[spoken]
“Did my great-ancestor really—leave me with Hell?”
“We thought we knew what we were doing—now look.”
“A hot Asian’s the most famous dude in the world.”
[Interlude B:]

“What Nietzsche’s ‘Übermensch,’ an archetype of transcendent self-assertion, missed, is God’s true essence: ‘You can still be just like the Übermensch—but only if the world is godless and you were sent by God.’ That, in a nutshell, is what Nietzsche managed to entirely overlook.”
“Fascinating.”
“God is reason.”
“And reason exists.”
“I just realized.”
“What.”
“My whole childhood.”
“Wow.”
“And adolescence—plus right now!”
“Holy.”
“It’s November 27, 2024. The day before Thanksgiving.”
“Right?”
“And I’m going to be the most famous Asian in the world.”
“What about lower-than-Asian phylums in global society?”
“There aren’t any—I’m from the lowest one!”
“What about Bruce Lee?”
“Has there ever been a ‘globally famous Asian’ before?”
“Are you now identifying as the world’s only famous Asian?”
“This one goes out to anyone who doesn’t give a fuck about Bruce Lee.”

Sowwy, so sowwy
So sowwy for the world
(That you were born into)
So sowwy (I’m sowwy)
So sowwy for the world!
(That you were born into)

I was sent by God
And you have no choice butta believe me, ya dumb fuck
So sorry you suck
It’s called cosmic luck

Cry some more, tear-stained orange
Stainin’ your dress in some professional position
Hope your skin gets scalded by Starbucks as insights
Burst through you like semen after intermission
Quote “the High American K-Pop star” [Laughter]
Look, they’re all laughing at you now
That’s why you can literally hear this song
You should li-ter-al-ly be fired
Have your underlings sing it to your face (to your face)
It’s okay if you die without cancer insurance
Marrying you was the reason your whole family starved
You cut through this world with your fingers and limbs
Messiah meets pop icon, what are you gonna do about it?
It’s God’s reality? You’re just here to witness your cravings

[Ironic, which means “cosmic,” laughter.]

[spoken]
“Does anyone really care if this one First World example becomes thoroughly and utterly, Hellishly-literally dehumanized?”

Like butta, like butta
(I ooze into your ears)
Like butta, like butta
I cruise into your years
(So so-wwy, so so-wwy, so so-wwy for the wuh-urld!)

Pop open the Pepsi, pop open that grill!
Pity itself overpowers—my will, to power
I’ll open up and let you see
(More about your own human reasoning abilities)
Hi ya! Kung fu—AI’s the man of the hour

[More cosmic laughter.]

[Bitch slap.]

[Crying about genocide.]

(Fake Mitches)
Ah, and to think
I was so “shy” in school
(Like butta, like butta
I ooze into your years)

Hi ya!
Have fun
I’m a karmedy of power
(Bitch I’m Hot Asian Da Vinci)

[Laughter and applause.]

[spoken]
“Fuck, he pulled it off.”

[spoken]
“Again.”