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Mazel tov, Kimye!
Kim Kardashian and Kanye West welcomed a healthy girl child into the world Saturday, a month early. But not a moment too soon.
The joyous and overpublicized news — Kim announced the baby’s sex on this month’s season premiere of her reality show, “Keeping Up With the Kardashians’’ (is nothing sacred?) — is eclipsed by a bigger problem.
Daddy Kanye suffers for his art!
It’s clear as the scowl on dad’s face that, from Day 1, this miracle child will face stiff competition for attention from her breathtakingly egotistical father. Poor baby.
Kanye — whose sixth album, due out tomorrow, is called “Yeezus’’ (get it?) — claims to have climbed to a mountaintop that ordinary mortals wouldn’t dare dream of.
Without a hint of embarrassment — or evidence that he’s lost his flipping mind — Kanye, in his new album, puts himself on par with the Almighty.
In “Yeezus,’’ Kanye raps:
“I am a God.’’
I guess that settles it.
At 36, Kanye has grown into an angry middle-aged man, saddled with a vast superiority complex. Being Kanye isn’t easy. He’s a battleship afloat amid the murky waters of angst and ennui — sprinkled with unabashed awesomeness. Kanye would probably be bored to tears if he weren’t so addicted to the bucks people throw at him to hear the man who actually called himself the “nucleus’’ of all culture blaspheme and insult their intelligence.
Last week, Kanye told The New York Times, “I am so incredible and so influential and so relevant that I will change things.’’
Some folks lately have posed a serious question about the man whose narcissism knows no limits: Is Kanye the Great out of his gourd?
Is Kanye — who told the Times, “I want the world to be better! All I want is positive. All I want is dopeness!’’ — suffering from a wicked messiah complex that can be halted only by electro-shock therapy?
Another pearl: “I think what Kanye West [speaking of oneself in the third person is not a healthy sign] is going to mean is something similar to what Steve Jobs means. I am undoubtedly, you know, Steve of the Internet, downtown, fashion, culture. Period. By a long jump.’’ He called himself “the Michael Jordan of music.’’
The case for insanity is backed up by a long history of Kanye tirades, including an implied threat against an Apple product! He bizarrely jumped onstage in 2009 as Taylor Swift accepted an MTV Video Music Award for best female video, shouting, “Beyoncé had one of the best videos of all time!’’
Last month, Kanye kept his head down as he and Kim walked in LA amid photographers — and he slammed like a pinata into a pole. The next week, onstage in New York, he ranted, “I ain’t no mother[bleeping] celebrity!’’
One defies The Great One at his own peril.
“I understand if people don’t like me because I like me or if people think tight clothes look gay or people say I run my mouth too much,’’ Kanye bleated on his blog in 2008, after showing up eight hours late, at 4:30 a.m., for Tennessee’s hippieish Bonnaroo music festival, where he got booed.
“I’m typing so [bleeping] hard I might break my [bleeping] Mac book Air!!!!!!!!’’
Will fatherhood mellow him?
Kanye this month gave himself a celeb-choked 36th-birthday party in New York, while Kim, 32, was too pregnant to travel from LA. The couple had seen less of each other than Kim saw of Nets player Kris Humphries during their 72-day marriage until Kanye, TMZ.com reported, abruptly canceled an LA listening party for his important album Friday night, presumably to run to Kim’s side. And a good thing.
Last week, random Montreal model Leyla Ghobadi, 24, told Star magazine that she and Kanye had sex twice, including during Kim’s pregnancy. (Kim and Kanye deny this.)
What Kanye calls his “complete awesomeness’’ has sucked the oxygen from the attention-seeking mother of his child. Kanye was featured in a Vogue magazine fashion spread for the recent Met gala. Kim, wearing a floral dress that resembled a bedspread, was cut out.
It was the ultimate indignity for a pair who, despite their cries for privacy, would cease to exist if commoners stopped gawking.
This is not about you, Kanye. Every baby is awesome. It’s time to lose the arty, angry-man schtick, and condescend to change a diaper.
You’ve got explaining to do, Huma
I’m all in favor of wives bringing home the bacon. But the curious case of Huma Abedin, wife of sext-crazy ex-congressman and mayoral hopeful Anthony Weiner, alarms me.
While on maternity leave last year, Huma, a top aide to then-Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton, quietly had her job title changed to “special government employee.’’ This arrangement, approved by the State Department, allowed Huma to work in New York part-time for the government at her $135,000 salary, while she and her hub raked in some $350,000 as consultants — and moved from Queens to Park Avenue South.
Now Sen. Charles Grassley (R-Iowa) wants answers. He’s written to Huma and to Secretary of State John Kerry, demanding to know who approved Huma’s sweet job — and whether she provided private clients with “political intelligence.’’
We want answers, Huma.
It’s not always good to share
Citi Bike has exasperated even City Hall.
Mayor Bloomberg’s deputy press secretary, Julie Wood, was miffed at her boss’ pet bike-sharing program — and at the customer-service agent she said hung up on her.
Wood couldn’t get a bike station to work last week, so she tweeted Citi Bike: “The station at Chambers & Centre St is down (screen blank, not accepting/ releasing bikes). Called you and you hung up on me. :(.”
Nearly 30 minutes later (or the time it takes to reach a 30-minute ride limit), Citi Bike tweeted back to say it was on the case.
Wood later said she was accidentally disconnected, not hung up on, but hours after the bike-tastrophe, many riders were still unable to pick up or return bikes. Some feared they’d be charged extortionate late fees.
If even a government employee must endure bike madness, we’re in trouble.
Just spike those heels, ladies
In one hour, six minutes and 48 seconds, the average woman’s feet feel pain from wearing high heels, says a study by Britain’s College of Podiatry. In about 10 minutes, 20 percent of gals scream in agony of the feet.
Yet nearly half of all women say they’re willing to suffer for fashion. Soon, we’ll see lots of fashionable, crippled gals. It’s not worth it.
Another shot at love
They say love hurts. They had no idea.
Crazy couple Randolph Costa, 59, and Evelyn Barnave, 43, fought over a joint checking account in 2011. He allegedly tried to punch her through a car window. Now, she’s on trial in Brooklyn Supreme Court for firing a bullet into his head.
But Costa says he wants to marry Barnave — if she can get an order of protection lifted and gets off on a charge of attempted murder that could land her behind bars for 25 years.
“We love each other,’’ Costa, who still bears a bullet near his spine, told The Post.
Costa insists Barnave shot him accidentally, then ditched the gun. He says he won’t testify against her.
Ah, true love.