hello.
my name is the champ, and i’m the coolest muthaf*cker any of you will ever meet.
i’m cool ass hell. i’m cooler than ice, ice water, ice cream, and debra lee
i’m to cool what crackheads are to home depot parking lots. if “being cool” was “being black”, i’d be the back of shaq’s neck
my coolness is all-encompassing, incessant, omnipotent, and a bunch of other SAT words i could have used because i’m too cool to just say “big”, bitch.
my cool plays chess while your cool eats checkers.
f*ck king kong, the other side of the pillow aint got sh*t on me
basically, i’m the sh*t
being this cool didn’t happen overnight though. while i was born with many inherently cool-ass qualities (dark-brown skin the color of a clear cup of raspberry iced tea, an egg head, an anadromic first name, a shrimp eating mother and a dad with a fro the size of pam oliver’s ass, etc), its taken a bit of work¹ to become the emo mandingo. and, while none of you lukewarm n*ggas will ever be as ice cold as me, here’s ten ways to help you to be the sh*t too
1. answer questions that were never even asked
nothing says emo mandingo like a bespectacled brother who’s asked a question but responds to it with an answer the person wasn’t even asking about.
for instance:
lukewarm n*gga: “yo. did you hear that new ghostface joint?”
emo mandingo: “nah, i don’t want any steak. i’m probably going to get some pizza later anyway”
see?
2. joke about being a nerd
when around company, refer to yourself as a “nerd” or “nerdy” even though you know you haven’t seen the inside of a library since the second season of twin peaks.
3. make randomly nonchalant analogies that noone in their right mind would ever understand, and allusions to people no one has ever heard of
lukewarm n*gga: “yo see that dunk lebron had last night?”
emo mandingo: “yeah, dawg. that sh*t was harder than a bowl of cream of wheat”
lukewarm n*gga: “huh?”
emo mandingo: “seriously. he got higher than a mexican papsmear. the only other cat i’ve ever seen jump like that is roscoe chang”
4. don’t drive anywhere, ever
walk if you can. if you can’t walk, bus. if you can’t bus, go back to sleep
this, by the way, only works if you actually own a car
5. make faces at people
sometimes, your flagrantly excessive coolness will be so overwhelming that words won’t possess the worthiness to leave your cool-ass lips. plus, remember: you’re the emo mandingo. actually speaking all the time is for the lukewarm.
why say a sentence or type a paragraph when a series of simple shrugs or squints will suffice? so what if a sneer doesn’t really translate over the phone. you’re the cool one; the pressure’s on their lukewarm ass to interpret what you’re saying
6. pay for stuff that you can easily get for free
***actually, this only applies to water, babies, drinking straws, purple objects, jitneys, and porn.***
7. start a completely impractical trend
in the summer of 2002, i began wearing inside-out dress shirts to bed at night. why? well, i’m the sh*t, which means that i don’t have to explain sh*t to you.
8. take showers during thunderstorms
cumulonimbus deez, bitch
9. give yourself three completely eclectic for no damn reason theme songs, and play them in your head when you’re talking to white people
for me, monday through thursday its marvin gaye’s “trouble man”. friday’s its fiona apples rendition of “across the universe”, and on the weekends its a collection of cat farts i recorded in the fall of 2007.
10. be unnecessarily descriptive and vulgar when people least expect it
lukewarm n*gga: “hey, can you have those reports done by 3 o clock?”
emo mandingo: “yeah, boss. i’ll knock them out when i get back from getting head on my lunch break from that waffle house waitress i met two weekends ago”
lukewarm n*gga to himself: “damn. how the hell can one man be so damn cool?”
exactly, lukewarm n*ggas. exactly.
anyway people of vsb, although i know that none of you will ever be as cool as me, how exactly are you the sh*t, and what advice would you give people hoping to be as sh*tty as you?
¹by “work” i just mean “living“, because emo mandingos don’t work for sh*t
—the champ