Here’s the thing: I like to think of myself as a word artist. Most artists stare at a blank canvas until an idea hits them, and then they create art. I like to think that the brain of the person in front of me is a blank canvas, and my job as an artist is to look into the eyes of that damn blank canvas and light that shit up! Sometimes I’m thinking more classic like a Rembrandt or a Michael Angelo, but other times I’m more like a graffiti artist! Sometimes I make museum-quality shit, and sometimes my shit is like the stuff you see on a subway car or a bathroom stall or way up on a damn billboard. You know those ones way up there, the ones you look at like, how the fuck did the guy get up there?! When you see shit up there like that, it usually says something like “Fuck Karen!” Which always makes me wonder, like, Damn, what did Karen do to make a muthafucka so mad that he would risk his damn life to climb way the fuck up there and make sure she sees it on her way to work?! Stuff like that makes you question every Karen you meet from that point on, ’cause the last thing you want to do is to get stuck with that damn Karen. Now, sometimes I go back and forth and feel bad for Karen, and all Karens, for that matter. See, the problem is muthafuckas never put the damn last name, or at least, if you’re a damn artist, draw a picture of Karen! It’s just too confusing, even for other Karens who see it and wonder to themselves Am I that damn Karen!? In turn they start calling up exes and yelling at their asses to see if they put that shit up there! See, not identifying which Karen it is is some selfish shit! What you’ve done is created a Karen virus—every Karen thinks it’s them, and everyone who dated a Karen thinks they dated the Karen. Do you understand how messed-up that is? Karens are mothers, daughters, granddaughters, teachers, nuns! There are babies who could’ve been born Karen but their mothers drove by that damn sign and now they have to second-guess themselves! Did you know that in 1965 Karen was the third-most popular name in America, but as of 2016 it’s only ranked 504th? That’s over a 500 percent drop! See what the fuck you did!
Now, what the fuck was I just talking about?
Oh yeah, I’m a word artist! Yeah, once I open my mouth, I just create. Half the time I don’t think about what I’m saying, it just comes out! And like most art, if you try to understand it before it’s finished, you would be like, “What the fuck is that?!” But by the time I’m done, you will definitely know what the fuck I’m talking about . . . unless you are dumb as shit!
Now, usually after I’m done saying something, I don’t remember it at all; this is a skill I developed called “plausible deniability.” But sometimes the thing that I said is so profound that people start quoting me and making t-shirts out of my shit to capitalize on my brilliant ass word art! By the way, Fuck Karen t-shirts will be available just in time for the holidays. I’ll keep you posted.