Vanilla Ice. Who doesn’t remember? I was like nine or something, and my cousin Scott knew all the words. I thought he was the coolest.

Some twenty one years later, it’s 3am, I’m at my computer editing a wedding montage to “Ice Ice Baby” and man, have you ever really LISTENED to this fucking song? IT MAKES NO SENSE. None. Not a lick. He starts out telling his audience to “collaborate and listen”, which, I mean, think about it, they’re two unrelated verbs, then goes on to say how he’s “back” (before “Ice Ice Baby” we didn’t even know he was even HERE) with “a brand new invention”. But we never find out what that invention is! He’s all rapping about how he’s “flow(ing) like a harpoon” and “wax(ing) a chump like a candle”, leaving me first pondering exactly how a harpoon might flow and then how one would wax a candle. Candles are MADE from wax, right? So that’s just silly. But I still want to know about the invention! Is it a car? A new type of can opener? A bell jar?

Then there’s all this stuff about how he’s the best MC ever, which, I suppose, is par for the course, then suddenly, ooh, he’s in his car! “Rolling in his 5.0”! And he’s all alone! “Go(ing) solo”, as he puts it! But only after “cooking”, and “burning”, some other MCs “like a pound of bacon”.

Mmmm, bacon. Maybe he needs to turn down his stove. Anyway.

So then we’re at this party, right, I mean, he TELLS us the address, which is nice of him, and there’s naked girls, and a ton of blow, and then WOAH! “Gunshots / rang out like a bell”! And just like that, the party gets busted up by the cops. This great party! With the strippers! And the blow! Jeez thanks, cops, I was totally about to get my freak on. Now I have to sit in gridlock with V. Ice here, because “the avenue’s packed”. God. Checking my email, updating Twitter, I mean, have we moved AT ALL yet? I knew we should have taken the freeway. Oh STOP, you ALWAYS say that. What? OK fine, Mr. smartypants, OK, you want a problem? I’ve got a problem you can solve – and I DON’T want your DJ to revolve it afterwards – GET ME OUT OF THIS FUCKING PARKING LOT!

At least, that’s what I’d be thinking.