Self-esteem. It can be hard to talk about, but from fatties to freakazoids, it's something with which we all struggle. Why, the author of this piece right here in your grubby paws even owns up to the occasional flaw: He's perhaps a bit overcritical from time to time and is known to let sneaky sarcasm take precedence over stuff like human decency. Point being, we all suck in our own special ways.
But you can't let something like a big nose or four eyes stand in the way of one surefire way to boost that deflated ego. It's so easy! Just breathe deep and remind yourself: "I'm not Skee-Lo."
Because you're really not Skee-Lo, are you? You're not one of rap's rare misfires; you're not an overeager one-hit wonder; you're not lost forever in VH1 list-show oblivion.
Like anybody, you might sympathize with Skee-Lo just a tad: From time to time, everybody wishes they were a little bit taller, or a baller or in possession of a girl who looks good and owns a telephone. But never all three at once, I hope. That Skee-Lo, he's got issues. You're better than that!
So distraught by his slight stature and lack of game, a young man who called himself Skee-Lo wrapped all his insecurities into a little ball and awkwardly tossed that ball toward the proverbial hoop of hip-hop infamy. He missed, fittingly; but thanks to his efforts, you and I are left with "I Wish," the most downtrodden, depressing rap song ever, a mark against which we should measure our own meager accomplishments.
Think of it this way: Not only was Skee-Lo a hatchback driver, a target for errant bottles and a washout with the ladies, but his bad luck even persisted after landing a song on MTV. Where is he now? Probably still driving around Los Angeles, still trying unsuccessfully to holla, still dreaming up "ghetto names" for children he'll probably never have.
So much rap is about some permutation of hardness: How much dope is slung, how many gats are toted, how many ladies are given the Mike Jones treatment? What is perhaps most refreshing about Skee-Lo's "I Wish" is the complete absence of this pretense. Here's a guy who's short, kind of goofy and not exactly a Lothario, and what does he do? He talks about being short, goofy and how he can't even get a date, so what do you think of that? The man took being uncool to cool new levels, and what did we do, America? We said, "Thanks for everything, Skee-Lo, but that's really all we needed from you now. And, hey, if you ever get fat, maybe we can get you on Celebrity Fit Club. Peace out."
Skee-Lo put it all out there during four minutes of chewy post-G-funk, and we smirked graciously, then quickly moved on. He can now be found buried in nearly every used-CD bargain bin in the country and as the punchline to a number of unfunny, nonsensical jokes, such, I suppose, as this one. Years ago, Skee-Lo once said that, if he had his way, every day would be a Friday, and he could even speed on the highway. Now, though? I bet Skee-Lo would be glad people remember he existed. For four minutes, he poured his heart out, and the least you can do to strike a blow against low self-esteem is to wave your freak flag high and say "I, too, wish I had a rabbit in a hat, and a bat, and a '64 Impala." Then, and only then, will our nation truly be strong again.
Support your local Skee-Lo. If he could, he'd support you.
