Published Nov 9, 2006
Thank you for getting divorced by Britney. I really appreciate that now you’ll have more time to spend on that which means the most to me — your music — and also to setting an example for me by bein’ a pimp. You and your bad self and your bad five o’clock shadow are truly inspirations to me.
However, next time you might try not to be an insipration to me by blowing it worse than any guy has ever blown it before. Now, it’s true, others wouldn’t have overlooked Britneys multi-millions, the bling with which she showered you, but you a true pimp, you know you can’t let no woman run your business, even if just spending time with her would keep her under your thumb. You got the moves and the lines — even your old woman, Shar Jackson, sure seems like she’d take you back now that you’re single again. And, hey, rumor has it that you were already offering yourself to other women at your show the very evening you got dumped. Via text message. On video.
Well, it’s Canadian video, so you know, it hardly counts. I’m still with ya big guy.
Speaking of your show, hey dude, I heard your music and it is fiiiiine! I don’t know how you put that shiznizzle together but those beats must’ve been off some niiice sample CD, they sound almost like what you hear on video games and TV and stuff like that. Not bad for your first try! And whoever’s doing the singing on your tracks, good job, you can barely tell that you’re on there at all! I mean, it ain’t unique, but, then, who gets ahead by being different? No, it’s all about bein’ just like the CDs they all got in their changers already.
Oh, and that appearance on The Megan Mulally Show last week? Haaarrrrrdcore! Those them beats that make me lose control, yeah boy.
Speaking of hardcore, I like how you went more Lestat than gangsta with the font for your album art. Those curlicues, the split top on the L — it’s almost Beaux-Arts with a pinch of Art Nouveau. You’re like the 1870 Paris1 of rappers.
I mean, Kevin, seriously, thank you. Like millions of American males, I’ve worried from time to time that I might fail miserably at something in life. But, K-Fed — I mean, Fed-Ex — you’ve done me an inestimable favor: you’ve lowered the bar. Not just taken it down a notch, but put it at about ankle level. Sure, you had your Ferrari that’s worth more than a BMW S-class, and you got to drink Cristal, but you know all that’s going away now, right? You had a recording career that they handed you as a favor to Britney, but you can’t even give away free tickets to the House of Blues, yo. That’s just sad, dude. No matter how bad I screw it up now, I can’t blow it as bad as you did.
And it looks like you ain’t gonna get no alimony, neither. What kind of a pimp gets no money from his woman? Iceberg Slim woulda told you the rookiest of all rookie mistakes is to lead with your dick — you led with your dick and you got Georgied2. Heck, you didn’t even get to enjoy Britney’s famous body; sure, you got a couple of months of unprotected sex but she’s been knocked up pretty much continuously since then, so all you got was two years of chubby, trashy, and probably bitchy pregnant Britney. Well done on that one.
Seriously, Kev, thanks, thanks from all of us guys for making us the ones who are successful at relationships, the ones who achieve things in life, the ones who can keep our shit together and manage not to get every girl we date pregnant. Have fun back in Fresno.
Best,
Wade
1 By which I mean “Going to war with an enemy inestimably more powerful than you, who will destroy you completely, humiliate you, and cause your inevitable decline to the butt of a thousand jokes concerning how quickly you surrender. Plus kill or maim a generation of your men. On the upside, you do get to invent margarine.”
2 “Georgiaed: to be taken advantage of sexually without receiving money” Seriously, that’s what it says in the glossary of Pimp. Could it be any more specifically accurate? Heck, I don’t even need to read the book to you — the little inside-the-front-cover teaser says it all: “‘A pimp is the loneliest bastard on Earth. He’s gotta know his whores. He can’t let them know him. He’s gotta be God all the way.’” Dude, if she was buying you the Ferrari… well, I can tell you that you didn’t fit the definition of God in that relationship, which means you ain’t no pimp, and, in the pimpin’ business, there’s only two jobs.
Dear Wade,
As you seemed miffed that no one commented on your Federline posting, I felt the need to read it and remedy that. Since you were sooooo gracious to Fed-X, I thought I should thank you for a few things: thanks for making it clear where your bar is now set, for putting it out there that you heed the advice of Iceberg Slim and, on a personal note, for teaching me the word Georgiaed. I?ll be sure to incorporate it into my vocab with great frequency.
Best,
C
PS ? You had to pick on his five o?clock shadow? Aside from makin? hits and makin? babies, give the man some credit for his ability to grow and groom (or have his wife pay for someone to groom) his facial hair. We all, each and every one of us, have our strengths and they should be acknowledged.
Pimp is a great read.
And so was this entry. Thank you.
(p.s. Hi, Courtmack!)