Amanda Bynes Should Be a Rapper
What is an average day in the 2013 life of Ms. Amanda Laura Bynes?
Here's a likely scenario: She wakes up around 11. She goes to the gym. She might take a meeting about her fashion line(s). She (probably) goes to the gym again. She leaves her lawyer a seventeenth voicemail, detailing five more people she wants to sue. You know. Celebrity stuff.
Obviously, she tweets. And tweets. She sits at home, reading all the trash that tabloids print about her. She retweets some of the worst (or best, I still can't decide) fan art the world has ever known. She deletes tweets she's not proud of and denies their existence fervently. She constructs elaborate insults to fling at Courtney Love and model Chrissy Teigen. She scours the Internet for "embarrassing" photos of Perez Hilton. She calls a stylist and has her head shaved. She takes 15-20 mirror selfies on her phone and posts the "best" ones – ones that look the most like purported Drake muse Blac Chyna (she's inviting the comparisons very much on purpose). And then, we again assume, she gets together whatever so-called (and thus far, invisible to the public) "friends" she has, and they party – though supposedly it's a straightedge party because, after all, she's "allergic to alcohol and drugs." Lather, rinse, repeat. Over and over again – until the cops show up, of course. What a life.
This is all a roundabout way of saying: millionaire homegirl's got way too much free time for someone who still acts – on a daily basis – as though she's got something to prove. Which is why it would be so great if someone would please give this woman a recording contract already.
For completely understandable reasons, most readers who saw this headline either hateclicked on it or wrote it off entirely (and expectedly) as trolling. Or maybe they took a more measured approach, recognizing the potentially catastrophic dangers of someone as rich, privileged, white, and, errrr, whimsical as Bynes rapping – that is, making music that is so often appropriated, hijacked, mocked, and otherwise denigrated by people who shouldn't be messing with music at all, let alone a genre whose culture is so vehemently rooted in authenticity and a truth-to-power narrative. These are very real concerns, concerns that folks from Paris Hilton to Macklemore to Donald "Childish Gambino" Glover to Lindsay Lohan to Mac Miller to Kitty Pryde have all, in the past, failed to avoid. There's a really, really good chance that if she gets the kind of opportunity she wants, she will utterly – and tragically, for nearly all parties – mutilate and waste it.
There's still a glimmering window of hope that might just make a rap career the best (and possibly only) thing a post-Hollywood Amanda Bynes could do for herself – if she does it well.
For starters, consider the incredible diss tracks. Take how much slander practically explodes from her fingers onto the Internet on a daily basis, and then consider the fact that, once dropped, no diss track could ever be eradicated or Photoshopped.
Consider that, in her 27 years on earth, this woman has evoked more bizarre characters than Nicki Minaj, Eminem, Odd Future, and Wu Tang combined. If even a third of those references appeared on a Mz. Bynes mixtape? And can you imagine the devastation that could come of an Old Amanda vs. New Amanda alter-ego breakdown?? (By the way, Amanda, please call your debut mixtape Mz. Bynes. Thanks in advance.)
Then consider the blessings she's received (albeit not specifically in regards to music) from Gucci Mane, Waka Flocka Flame, and members of Odd Future. If acceptance from rap fans is what she's looking for, she could probably get something like it through endorsements like these. (Alternately, if she decided to go the rock route instead, Courtney Love would probably rep her hard, even if Bynes hates her.)
Consider that Amanda Bynes is a lifelong, trained comedian, and when paired with the right producers (and, perhaps, songwriters), could give Lonely Island a run for their money if she really wanted (think Natalie Portman's SNL rap, times twelve, or however many songs she wants to include on her album).
Consider the last time you actually heard Amanda Bynes speak, apart from the "yes, sir"s and "no sirs" she mumbled to the judge at her court hearing. I'm tired of simply reading her printed thoughts, to which I can assign whatever level of sanity I want in my own head. That's too easy. It's time to shout the Twitplus manifestos out loud.
Consider this diction:
Consider these dance moves: