The Lowbrowser

There are three types of parents: those that will let you drink their alcohol, those that will not, and those who are Paul Wall.



R. Kelly was the first stop on my magical Top 40 mystery tour initiation. Paul Wall was second.

Back when I lived in the dorms, I would watch a lot of television. Mostly (exclusively) public access, MTV and VH1. People would file in and out of the room, hemming and hawing over my lack of taste. I remember a couple of occasions when this video:



would gather small crowds to mock it. "Oh my god. I hate this man," I would say frequently. Too frequently, because I was secretly mesmerized by him. He looks like a tattoo'ed bridge troll that would hit on your sister right in front of you if given the chance. The sea change moment, when all of my aesthetics did a painful somersault right onto their stuffy little heads was when I realized that "I don't hate Paul Wall. I actually love Paul Wall." At some point, unadulterated douchiness becomes awesome. You just have to be really good at being a douche. And have high production values. Example of exactly how not to satisfy these criteria:



Also, Paul Wall is hilarious and I want him to come to my parties. Proof: