At first glance, Kobe Bryant's photoshoot and interview with Los Angeles Times Magazine (read this first so you get the jokes!!!) seems troublingly bizarre, inexplicably humiliating and vaguely Islamic. The photos have already generated a whirlwind of criticism and parody, even prompting Mormons to risk sitting behind a black man not named Howard Eisley just to take a cheap shot at Bryant.
Sadly, this isn't the first time the Lakers superstar and secondary scoring threat has fallen victim to a massive public misunderstanding of his actions. When this happened, Kobe suffered unfair criticism for choking away his team's postseason while denying more proven teammates the opportunity to take clutch shots. Little did we know, at the time Kobe was suffering from a unique form of vertigo you can only contract from prolonged contact with R&B singer Brandi's forehead, his date for high school prom. This is also the explanation behind Mekhi Phifer's career trajectory.
Luckily, Bochy's Oversized Pillow and ChrisKamanSwagger have obtained the full, unedited transcript of the LA Times Magazine interview, which provides indispensable context for the now infamous photoshoot. After reading the interview in its entirety, the notion that Kobe is a self-obsessed sociopath with the world's worst publicist seems ridiculous. He is simply a humble, salt-of-the-earth, average helicopter-commuting Los Angelino, with the fashion taste of a Pashtun Mark Twain. Enjoy:
It’s almost 4:30 in the afternoon. In the vast Blossom Room of the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel, everything is in place for Kobe Bryant’s cover shoot: The photographer and his three assistants have been here since 8 a.m. creating a set for the shoot that is swathed in black duvetyn. There is even a Kobe stand-in for adjusting the lighting: Smush Parker, who is also part of the catering crew and between drink orders offers me a delectable mushroom quiche.
There’s a stylist and a seamstress, a groomer and a manicurist, sneetches with and without stars, assistants and publicists galore. Smush is trying to sweet-talk a woman from Harry Winston here into purchasing one of the gold-plated Casios he carries underneath his work uniform.
There’s just one thing missing—Kobe himself. He’s running late...actually, not running at all. Flying. In his helicopter. Made of platinum. From his home in the O.C.-- Olympus County, the gated community around the Acropolis in Greece, home to only Kobe, George Soros and the sun god Ares.
“I knew he’d be late,” says the creative director, completely unfazed by the fact that he now has barely two hours to pull off a job that normally takes at least four. And there’s no wiggle room: Bryant has to leave by 6:30. He’s doing the Kimmel show tonight, and needs at least an hour to come up with some bullshit story about him being friends with his teammates, probably involving Derek Fisher.
Suddenly, there he is—long, lean, in shades and simple gray sweats made of black pearls and caviar, a small entourage in tow. Bryant ambles over, smiling and exchanging hugs, handshakes and fist pumps with Toto, his aboriginal body man and the only person allowed to make physical contact with Kobe. The stylist shows him the clothes, and they chat easily in Italian while deciding on the first ensemble.
Tom Murray: I have to ask, When you’re in that chopper, do you ever look down on the city, pinch yourself and say—
Kobe Bryant: How lucky am I that Chris Wallace is the general manager of a professional basketball team? Absolutely—every time.
But this is some dream s--t. Wardrobe that’s all white? This just doesn’t happen. Not for me. This is crazy.
Looking confused, the stylist tells Kobe he has several different colored suits, mostly black and navy, none that are all white. Bryant replies that he brought some of his own threads, and yells at Toto in Italian to fetch him his clothes.
Hmmm...You’re very relaxed. Of course, we’re talking as you’re getting a manicure and a facial before you have your makeup put on. Is this a side of your personality you’d like more people to see?
I think people, especially here in Los Angeles, are starting to understand me a lot more in terms of what I’m like personality-wise. I’m relaxed, laid back, pretty funny, smartass, humble. But if you're asking whether I play without putting foundation on first, the answer is never.
But people don’t often see that relaxed side of you...
When they turn on the TV or go to a game, that’s not the side of me they want anyway. Know what I’m saying? Most of the time when they see me, I’m in that golden armor. When I'm walking around LA LIVE, in my chainmail.
You take heat because of your demeanor in postgame interviews, especially if you lost.
Well, everybody gets upset. But if I’m being short, I’m being short. It’s not like I’m telling people to go F-off.
The stylist approaches again with a selection of ties. Bryant tells her to fuck off, and then proceeds to wrap what seems to be some kind of braided napkin around his head. He asks Toto if its "poppin", and Toto assents. 
But wouldn’t it benefit you if the media in L.A. saw this side of your personality more?
It probably wouldn’t be helpful for them, because they have to write and sell stories. And you can’t have everybody saying positive things all the time. It’s just not going to work, even though this is, like, my city when it comes to sports, you know what I mean? You gotta have people on one side of the fence and people on the other, people who do the sexual assaulting and people who get assaulted, ya know?
How do you like to enjoy L.A.?
We go to restaurants, things like that. I love Koi, Flamingo, Zebra. Most of the time, after a game, I go across to the L.A. Zoo and they just let me have what I want. Got a pretty big tab over there.
I love dogs, I hate bees, I love snakes, hate human connection. And I hate dog s--t. I absolutely hate dog s--t.
So what do you do when dogs poop in front of the house?
Call Smush. Ain't that right, Smush? Nah man, I don't want your fucking Casios.
You’re playing Guitar Hero at an event with Baltimore Raven Ray Lewis after this. You play a pretty mean air guitar?
Oh, yeah, man—everybody can play a mean air guitar! I’ll be rocking out! We'll also be playing "Avoiding a Felony Conviction Hero" on Kimmel.
Any songs or bands you like?
“Hells Bells”—a little AC/DC never hurt anybody. Dropkick Murphys get me going, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Nirvana...yeup, that's about all the white people music I can think of. But really I've been a huge Juggalo since Chris Mihm took me to a concert a few years back.
It’s time for Bryant to head to the set. Insane Clown Posse pounds and lights flash every few seconds, and when he’s finished, there’s time for just a final few questions out by the pool.
Do you think about your basketball mortality at all—that one day you won’t be able to do everything you can now?
I feel invincible out there, but it’s a different kind of invincible than when I was younger, like a superinvinciability, or kobinvicability. Can I jump over two or three guys like I used to? Yes. Am I as fast as I used to be? Yes. Probably faster. But does it matter when I go 8-25 from the field? No.
Basketball really isn't my career, it's a means to an end. It's a way for me to gain money, power, social-standing, and a blind devotion from the retarded masses of Los Angeles. Also, I get to kick it with Ryan Phillipe whenever I want.
Do you think you might stay involved in the game?
I’ll stay in the game as long as I damn well please. I can jog up and down the floor and shoot free-throws until I’m 29 Kobe-years, or 356 human years.
Time’s up. Bryant has other commitments, then it’s back to the chopper. “What do you think about while you’re up there?” Kobe is asked, as he winds through a throng of Chris Kaman’s admirers.
“I think about a lot of things,” he says. “I think about driving around the streets of Philadelphia as a kid. And then I fast-forward, and here I am, riding the coattails of a 7-foot Mexican stork to a championship in a city I’ve graced with my presence for 14 years, while only threatening to leave or implode the team for 12 of them.
“I think about all the fans we have, the houses I’m flying over. Especially when I’m heading to a game, I’m like, How many will watch us play for the next two hours and be pulling for us? That helps motivate me. But most of the time, I just poke people on Facebook."
