Probably the best thing about being a rapper is that you can write raps about how good you are at rapping and writing raps. That must be so great. To just have your entire art form be a medium for boasting. As a comedian, I can’t just write jokes about how funny I am. Or blog posts about how bloggy my blog is. I wish so badly that it were more acceptable in other art forms. Like novels. Or plays. I wish more great literature were full of unveiled boasts about how great it is. Like these examples:
A Farewell To Arms by Ernest Hemingway…
“I named this book after the fact that I could have written it with my feet. That’s how good I am at this shit! Blam!”
Moby Dick by Herman Melville
“Call me Ishmael, biatch.”
Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare
“Two households both alike in dignity
In fair Verona where we lay our scene.
This shit’s about to pop off. Watch it, son.
‘Cause Shakespeare’s in the spot, makin’ that green.”
(Bonus points for gangsta iambic pentameter.)
Casey at the Bat by Ernest Thayer
“There is no joy in Mudville,
Mighty Casey’s not a player. He just crushes a lot.”
A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens
“It was the best of times. I used to read Word Up Magazine.”
The Most Dangerous Game by R. Connell
“Don’t hate the most dangerous player. Hate the most dangerous game.”
White Fang by Jack London
“Bow wow wow, yippee yo yippee yay. White Fang in the mothafuckin’ houuuuse.”
Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller
Biff: Willy Loman. You ain’t no salesman. You just a mark-ass trick.
Willy: Biff, please.
(That one doesn’t really fit the theme, but I love it.)
So…get on it novelists and playwrights. I think we’ve got a pretty solid template here.