Who’s Up for a Little
Old School Rap?
by MC Vic Daniels 

There’s nothing I love more than entertaining—and there’s nothing more entertaining than rap music. Not that modern nonsense with the f-word used over and over again, and calling ladies female dogs. I’m talking about true rap.

Old school rap.

So let’s break it down now, shall we? Get this place all funky.

The important thing to remember is that rap is all about confidence and style. And I’ve got truckloads of style, folks. And confidence? Nobody’s got more! I’m glad to be here and to break it down, old school! I can do it all—adaption of much-loved rhymes you’re all familiar with, some of my own self-penned raps to beats pumped out by my rap collaborator DJ John Waterhouse, or even some freestyling. Just give me a subject matter, say, my friends in high school, and I will bust a rap so grand you all will have to pick up your jaws off the floor. That’s how amazed you’ll be.

Like all rappers, I truly slay. Everybody has certain subjects where they mine rap gold, and mine is my shoes and my superior rap abilities. Check out these fly shoes—real old school Addidas, and they rock. There was a time when shoes weren’t about extra flaps, lights, and Velcro straps. That’s my shoes, just there for keeping my feet comfortable—and, of course, styling. My shoes are more than shoes. They’re friends. And I have a number of raps dedicated to my friends.

It’s not easy being a dope rhyme-ologist. Despite having lyrical superiority over everyone I meet, and putting down the wanna-bes, it doesn’t mean I’m always successful with the ladies. That’s right: I’ve been played. And I’m not ashamed to rap about it.

One time there was a honey that strung me, drew me in like a master of gravity, acting all shy when I tried to kiss her, then said I was making time with her sister. I denied it, decried it, but it was no use fightin’; she was treating me like a tool, played me for a straight-up fool. Peace out.

That’s just one of my rhymes. They sound better than they read, trust that. When I submitted my proposal for a rap act at the Taj Mahal Casino in Vegas they were doubtful as well, but once I broke it all out they were convinced I was not a perpetrator. As I said, some of the Vegas audiences don’t want a tired old Lawrence Welk or Andy Williams or anything. They need something a little spicier, and I have it with my classic old school rap.

Some people say when you rap you have to “dress down,” but I say that’s hooey. I dress the way I feel—and I feel good! People like to see a show where the entertainer’s dressed up a little bit for them, and I give the people what they want. All I ask is to cut loose and have a little fun, and maybe wave their hands in the air.

Nobody is a one man band in the world of rap, unless you do it acapella. But I’m afraid I have a lot of help to make my beats, and I would like to take a moment to thank my number one beatmaster, my scientist of bass, the one and only DJ John Waterhouse. Much love to you, old chum.

This is not only my declaration of my love for rap, of course; it’s an invitation to a night out on the town for some of the best old school rap your ears have ever been blessed with. If you’re going to be in the beautiful city of Las Vegas anytime all during the month of January, please come out and treat yourself at the Taj Mahal Casino. Three shows a night and all-you-can eat shrimp, and that’s the personal MC Vic Daniels guarantee. Thanks, I love every one of you!

Everyone’s Half-Assing the Christmas Spirit
While we’re on the subject of making my life just a tad easier… kids: Get into something a little easier on St. Nick, will you? Those goddamn Playstation 2s and video games by the ton are not only impossible to make, but they’re starting to seriously do some damage to the ol’ back.

If I Were a Carpenter I Would Build You a Home Out of My Heart
Perhaps I could live on an artificial heart. Artificial, like William Shatner’s hair. I understand people can only live so long on artificial hearts, so I definitely would have to work fast. It would be a rush job, this heart house, but I’d get it done.

I Challenge You to a Race Around the World
We shall carry only that which fits on our back, Nuttley, eat when we can catch food, drink when we can lay hands on water. It is a test of will as much as speed, endurance as much as swiftness. Of character even more than rate of travel.

I Just Wanted a Card That Said “Sorry For Kicking Your Grandma in the Kidneys”
Is that too much to ask? Apparently so. Time and time again Hallmark has left me high and dry to draw up my own cards of one stick figure putting the boot-stomp on another, or a cat getting sucked into a lawnmower.