Consider, for a moment, Darth Vader's relationship with Discovery Vitality.
The question isn't whether he hits his fitness goals - of course he does. The question is what this tells us about the profound efficiency of embracing haterism as a lifestyle choice. You think the Dark Lord of the Sith is missing out on his weekly Kauai smoothie rewards? That he isn't maximising his Discovery Bank benefits? That he's letting cashback opportunities slip through his mechanically-enhanced fingers?
The absurdity of the question reveals a deeper truth: Darth Vader doesn't wake up questioning his commitment to villainy. He doesn't scroll through morning affirmations or vision-board his way through identity crises. He gets up. He gets his steps in. He tracks his macros. He's locked in with the kind of clarity that only comes from knowing exactly who and what you're against.
This brings us to Kendrick Lamar.
The marketing discourse around Kendrick's 2024 has been predictably sanitised - all talk of authenticity and disruption, the usual platitudes that flatten cultural phenomena into PowerPoint-ready insights. But they missed the point entirely. Kendrick didn't win a Grammy because he was authentic.
He didn't win because he was disruptive.
He didn't win because he kept people guessing.
He won because he was a hater.