I was a Vanilla Ice fan.
In fact, I was one of the biggest VI fans. I had the cemented quiff, the outlandish white jacket, and the funky white-boy dance moves.
Here’s some classic lines from Ice Ice Baby, Vanilla Ice’s signature tune:
“Yo VIP, let’s kick it!”
“Take heed, cos I’m a lyrical poet!”
“To the extreme, I rock a mic like a vandal, light up the stage and wax a chump like a candle!”
“If there’s a problem, yo I’ll solve it, check out the hook while my DJ revolves it.”
“My rhyme’s like a chemical spill!”
“Slice like a ninja, cuts like a razor blade!”
“If my rhymes were a drug, I’d sell ’em by the gram!”
Ahh, the pleasures of early nineties white-boy rap.
In other musical disasters:
I was also addicted to MC Hammer (before he dropped the ‘MC’, and then before his career joined Vanilla Ice’s in the toilet).
And I bought a Milli Vanilli tape AFTER they were exposed as frauds. I still reckon their music rocked, even if they didn’t actually sing it. It’s sad that Fab (or was that Rob) recently passed away.
Like Hammer and Ice, these guys bit the big one in a major way, but unlike Vanilla Ice (real name Robert Van Winkle, I kid you not!), who made a come-back (of sorts) in a recent movie (as a pyscho music store clerk in the excellently funny and underrated teen movie, The New Guy), MV went sour and stayed that way.
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