It’s all this super, super-dumb insider crap. There’s this Paper magazine award thing—the Nightlife Awards, literally the silliest award-show possible. They give out awards like “Best Hotel With A Nightlife Scene,” things like that. [Laughs.] That’s actually an award. I went with a bunch of friends, and my friend Justine D. was up for “Best DJ Of The Year” or whatever. And the drunker I got, the more I was like, “If she doesn’t win, I’m going to pull a Kanye,” just because I thought it would be stupid. She didn’t win, so I just jumped up and grabbed the microphone—and apologized to Andrew Andrew, who did win—and said, “You’re not the best!” It was funny. Or not even funny—it was stupid, and I was drunk. And [host] Michael Musto called me a douchebag. So I thought it would be funny to put it in the song, like, “Hey, fuck you, dude.” Like, not really fuck you. [Laughs.] I just thought it would be like, “Why not?” A record lasts forever. It’s like The Downtown Book, you know, with photos from downtown New York in the early ’80s. It’s like if some bouncer had dissed him, and he wrote in the book, “Fuck you, Steven Ray.” Why not? I grew up in New Jersey reading the Voice, so I was a fan. But bitch, don’t come at me like that.
