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“You know, things are going pretty well for me here. I met a girl.”
“Kramer, she was murdered!”
“Yeah, well I wasn’t looking for a long term relationship.”
Cosmo Kramer is overdue for proper recognition. A self-proclaimed assman, Kramer excretes fraternal behavior like Jerry does jokes and Newman sweats. He’s one of the greats in TV syndication, right alongside Charlie Harper and Scott Disick. When he’s not pursuing his PGA Tour card, he’s suing an heiress for fucking up his swing, using, I might add, a lawyer to the likeness of famed Johnnie Cochran.
When he’s not busy exploiting the American judicial system to his benefit, he’s pursuing one of many entrepreneurial endeavors, such as using homeless men for cheap labor or importing Cubans to roll cigars. From talking shit about Ukraine while playing Risk on the subway, to burning the Puerto Rican flag on Puerto Rico Day, he’s Cosmo “the assman” Kramer, and he’s a goddamn American Icon.
Though his first name screams “cunty drink order,” Kramer manages to keep his full birth name a secret all the way until season six of Seinfeld. That’s like meeting a fellow brother your freshman year of undergrad, yet not knowing that his mom refers to him as “Preston” up until when he’s walking across the stage at your law school graduation ceremony.
One of Kramer’s finest qualities is his blatant disregard for whatever social norms contradict his MO, and, more often than not, it sees to his benefit. For example, he tells George’s would-be-hot-if-wasn’t-big-nosed girlfriend that she should get a nose job, which she then opts for. But her nose, as Kramer says to her face, got “butchered.” Cue Kramer knowing a doctor who fixes the mess. Cue George’s slam now becoming hot. Cue now-hot slam leaving George for Kramer.
Aside from fucking both of his best friends’ girls at various points in time (big-nose, the librarian, etc.), Kramer’s been known to form questionably close ties with both Jerry and George’s moms, as well. Granted, in the case of ‘stopping short’ with George’s mother, he later had to face the wrath of Ben Stiller’s dad, but at least he got Mrs. Seinfeld to cook for him down in Florida.
His penchant for attracting more girls than fat-free fro-yo is so strong they give a name for it: Kavorka, which is Latvian for “the lure of the animal.” Kramer once turned a lesbian woman straight and was directly requested to be Miss Rhode Island’s personal consultant for the Miss America Pageant.
“I’ve seen every Miss America pageant since I was six.” TFM.
Kramer has more connections than the JFK airport and is owed favors as if he’s Don Corleone. His whole life is a TFM and cannot be summed up in one article, but I’ll conclude by just listing out a handful more:
Retires early and runs for Condo Board President in Florida. TFM.
Responds to George asking if he could change a $20 with, “I only have hundreds.” TFM.
Puts $600 on a horse at 30-1 odds, then hits it. TFM.
Once had his picture taken with President Gerald Ford. TFM.
Creates a cologne scent for Calvin Klein. TFM.
Has a sports jacket that he claims has “extraordinary power over women.” TFM.
Passed out in a pile of garbage. TFM.
Passed out on top of a girl while hooking up. TFM.
Has multiple protégés. TFM.
Free-balls in order to protect his sperm count. TFM.
His life’s misadventures become the basis for a successful book. TFM.
Can chug a beer and smoke a cig at the same time. TFM.
Once added a screen door outside his apartment, along with barbecue grill, lawn chairs and an American flag to give it a southern comfort feel. TFM.
Established a company called Kramerica. TFM.
On breaking up with his girlfriend, Kramer says, “Oh yeah! The sooner the better. I can’t wait to do it. You know how there’s some people you worry about whether or not you’re gonna hurt their feelings? With her, I’m looking forward to it. Boy, I’d like to get it on video. Watch it in slow motion and freeze frame it!” TFM.
Most importantly, Kramer loves whiskey. “That is damn good scotch… Mmmmm, boy that Hennigans goes down smooth, and afterwards you don’t even smell. That’s right folks. I just had three shots of Hennigans and I don’t smell. Imagine, you can walk around drunk all day. That’s Hennigans, the no-smell, no-tell, scotch.” TFM.