Snoop Dogg Visits His Grandma

By staff writer Paul Frank

Recently, rapper Snoop Dogg went to a place he rarely goes. No, it wasn’t Notsmokingpotland (a suburb of Straight-Edge XXXCore, New Mexico). It was his grandma’s house. So obviously Snoop Dogg has a grandma, but does he have to visit her? No. The answer is “no, he doesn’t.” That’s not the official, scientific, Wikipedian answer, but rather my humble opinion (which can be quite scientific itself). I mean, come on, he’s Snoop D-o-double-g; his grandmizzle should be able to put up with not seeing him by realizing, “Hey, maybe visiting your grandma is the most un-gangsterish thing possible… but hey, what do I know? I’m old.”

Well, turns out the old wrinkly bitch is right. What’s her name anyway? Estelle Dogg?

Grandma, promise me if I ever become one of the most famous black people ever, and one of the most successful rappers ever, that you can put up with not seeing me… ever. And trust me, I’m well on my way. No, not to never seeing you again. I’m well on my way to becoming one of the most successful rappers ever—and black. Becoming black is not as easy as becoming white when you’re black. If you’re black and want to become a white person, you simply buy several boxes of Professional Strength Crest Whitestrips and put them all over your body, twice a day, for five years. If you’re white and want to become a black person, you’ll need to talk to your dentist about a custom solution.

Fortunately, recent scientific research has concluded that pimpin’ is easy. And while that may be true (hopefully it is, because pimping is my major and intended job after college—plus, I tend to rely heavily on recent scientific research), it is also true that pimpin’ and then visiting your grandma is hard. How can Snoop Dogg look his grandma in the eyes after a long, hard day of slapping hoes, fucking hoes, smoking pot, drinking expensive alcohol, and slapping hoes some more (they deserve it, trust me)? It seems one gets stuck in a vicious cycle of drugs and hoes once they start doing these things, and it’s hard to break the cycle for things like visiting your grandma, or doing newspaper crossword puzzles. Unless his grandma smokes chronic. Now that’s the kind of grandma I could get behind (no GILF).

But the reality is, Snoop Dogg’s grandma probably doesn’t spend her nights getting crunk. She spends her nights sleeping, and her days knitting and crying.

Here is pretty much any given conversation between Dolores Condoleeza Doggy Dogg and Snoop Dogg:

SNOOP DOGG: Hi, Grandma!

SNOOP DOGG’S GRANDMA: Oh, Snoopus Maximilian Doggy Dogg, you never visit me anymore!

SNOOP DOGG: I know, Grammywammy, but I’ve been busy making albums like “Doggystyle," “The Doggfather,” and “Da Game Is To Be Sold, Not To Be Told.”

SNOOP DOGG’S GRANDMA: “Da Game Is To Be Sold, Not To Be Told" sucked, and I returned it for a full refund.

SNOOP DOGG: Fuck you, Grandma, fuck you.

Snoop Dogg, if you’re reading this, please don’t kill me for writing this article. Maybe your grandma’s dead, and you just visited her grave, I don’t know. (I understand that would make this article even more offensive to you, and to your dead grandma—rest in peace, Gertrude Dogg.) Maybe your grandma is still alive, and you visit her often. Maybe you feel guilty about not visiting your grandma enough, and you want to thank me for reminding you to visit her, by killing me. Please, thank me not by killing me, but by taking me out for dinner at your nearest neighborhood Applebee’s. I hear they have some killer steaks there.

Seriously, though, don’t kill me. I’ve listened to all your song samples on iTunes, and although they’re short and cut off abruptly, they are great. I’ve also illegally downloaded several of your songs on LimeWire, and I’ve used “–izzle” after a lifetime total of at least 500 words, including “wizzlefizzledizzle” (which they have yet to include in the dictionary—but we’re ahead of the “game,” you and I). So you could say I’m quite a loyal fan of yours.

Maybe your grandma is alive, but you’re offended by me calling you a pussy. Listen, Snoop Dogg, you’re gravely wrong. I never called you a pussy; you just called yourself one.

Thus, I end this baffling report on Snoop Dogg, one of my idols (well, not really, but he’s probably someone’s idol), with a request: The next time you want to light up your grandma’s face and her life by visiting her, think again. Wouldn’t the day be better spent lighting up something else?

You know what I’m talking about, Snoopy. Your grandma will be around forever, but that blunt won’t be. So how about a little bit of that sticky icky? I know you could go for some right now. Come on! Come on! Who wants some?!? How about a treat?!? That’s it. Good boy. Good Dogg.

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