Fat Pimp


Seriously? Fat Pimp? Seriously. Are you fucking serious? You cannot possibly be serious, and yet you stand there, looking innocently and confused into my eyes, assuring me that you certainly, without a doubt, are serious. Hold on a second and let me make sure. I have to be completely positive that you are completely positive. Answer me one more time: Are. You. Motherfucking. Serious?… I was afraid of that.

One year ago, if I had signed on to Myspace and seen the name Fat Pimp as the featured musical artist, I can’t say I would have been particularly surprised. I would, however, have dismissed it as a tasteless, yet slightly amusing joke. Think about it. What immediately comes to your mind when you’re stereotyping the races and religions of the world? Blacks walk slow with saggy pants and talk gangsta talk. Whites say “dude” more on its own than all other words of the English language combined. Mexicans riding bikes are most certainly not riding a bike that they legally own. Jews scour the ground meticulously all day in search of loose change. And hip hop artists are called one of a few choice generic names: “Lil’ Gangsta,” “Outta Dis Wurld,” or “Fat Pimp.”

Now, I’d immediately like to point out that there is one possibly valid reason why Fat Pimp may have gotten his name. The only possible reason I would have allowed for Fat Pimp to exist under the moniker he currently possesses is if he was indeed a Fat Pimp. The image should be clear enough in your head, but for your convenience, I’ve drawn up a composite sketch of exactly what this type of person should look like:

Notice the big tits and purple suit, and the fact that he’s playfully sticking his tongue out.

If Fat Pimp the rapper was in fact a large (preferably 360 pounds or more) black man who literally dealt business with hookers, and had a badass “yeah, I’m a criminal and a rapper, but I’m also a human fucking being” kind of full-mouthed toothy smile, then I would totally be into him. The problem is that Fat Pimp absolutely does not live up to his name:

Notice the LIFE money, indie kid t-shirt, slut glasses, lack of obesity, and the fact that he is the living embodiment of a sack of douche.

Fuck man, my shitty MS Paint drawing looks more genuine than this guy. When a half-assed mash-up of shitty MS Paint and a 100 KB image of an obese black guy in an alley that I found on google look more believable than your sorry ass publicity photo, it is time to retire from whatever business it is you claim to conduct in your life; of which Fat Pimp most certainly does not actually conduct, being that his songs take about 50 seconds to write, since they are based solely on the generic industry standard for a hit hip hop single. Fat Pimp does not conduct actual pimp business. But he also does not conduct actual musician business. He conducts “get high as fuck legally, and stand in front of a camera making stupid poses for millions of dollars” business.

Not to knock Pimpo for that, being that I’m sure any human being would be utterly satisfied with living that way. At least until they realized that they were perfectly useless to society, and had been aiding in the progressive dumbing down of humanity all this time. Even worse, they’d soon realize that they weren’t actually a Fat Pimp. One day Fat Pimp (whose real name I’m going to assume is Charles Xavier Edwards III, or something similar) is going to be sitting in his home, drinking some nice herbal tea and watching ESPNews, when it hits him. “What the hell,” he’ll say. “I’m…I’m not really a Fat Pimp.” In his final moments he will have lost all sense of self and soul, knowing perfectly well that he is not a Fat Pimp. The news outlets will not be surprised that he died, because coming to the sudden realization that you are definitely not an awesome, obese prostitute dealer is enough to shock anyone into suicidal thoughts. At least Fat Pimp will be good enough to pull the trigger.

Oh wait. He probably doesn’t actually own a gun or know how to use one. Well. He’ll be good enough to drink a gallon of pure heroin then. And who wouldn’t want to die that way? I’m sure even the real Fat Pimp would be envious.

Rod Jenson; Registered Gynocologist


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