When a record label is preparing to release a new album, oftentimes it will send a post card out a month prior to the release date with the cover of the record and an “in stores …” plug.

A few weeks ago one of these arrived at the Daily office, only there was no cover art on the card, simply eight words in small white lower-case letters.

It read: How could something so wrong be so right?

Interesting way to promote a record, I thought, as I turned the card over only to find that it was sent from Republic Records to hype the release of none other than Vanilla Ice’s long-awaited “Hard To Swallow.”

Via a little Republic ass-kissing, I had the new Ice in my hands within a day. And before I even made it through a single listen, I was on e-mail with every editor I could think of, begging to write whatever I could about the musical miracle playing through my radio.

I was answered by a collage of rejections from “not enough room” to “not right for the magazine.” Then the amazing occurred and the reviews editor at VIBE wrote back and said, “Interesting … give me 100 words by Friday.”

One hundred words.

Bill Clinton cheats on his wife and gets 482 pages, and the Ice Man puts his heart into a 12-song masterpiece and gets 100 words.

How can you sum up the greatest pop culture comeback of all time in 100 words?

So I pleaded for more.

Here was the exact response I received less than an hour later: “I don’t think anyone needs to read a longer review on Vanilla Ice! C’mon. I’m only putting it in because it’s kind of funny that he has a new record.”

Ouch.

Why is no one taking the return of Vanilla seriously? I can understand the average too-cool college punk, but his own record company? A rap magazine?

Did these people forget that Vanilla still claims the largest-selling rap record of all time, ousting even the almighty Puffy?

I soon realized that the lack of respect Ice is getting is explained poetically in the title of the record — “Hard To Swallow.”

A whiteboy rapper — who humiliated himself by appearing in a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie and then releasing a pro-pot record the next year — trying to reinvent himself a decade later is a bit hard to swallow.

Add to that an Adidas collection worthy of endorsement, a dozen tattoos and a producer who got his start recording bands like Korn and the Deftones, and the comeback is a mission impossible.

But isn’t that what the I to the C to the E strives on — a good challenge? Nobody said becoming the first solo white rapper and going on tour with the top-selling act in the country (M.C. Hammer) as a virtual unknown would be easy, either.

Yet, he made it look that way. Just like he makes creating the unequivocal salute to hardcore hip-hop look easy.

“Hard To Swallow” is not that hard — assuming there is a universal appreciation for a good Rage Against The Machine tune or 35″ Mudder show.

Vanilla’s rhymes are as skilled as ever, only instead of layered into human beat-boxing and Queen samples, they’re drilled into robust guitars and fierce drum beats.

“Too Cold,” a hardcore remake of “Ice Ice Baby,” is the only remaining remnant from the “To The Extreme” days and is surprisingly refreshing.

Don’t call it a sell-out, call it Ice’s nod to the loyals who have been religiously playing the anthem for the past eight years.

“Fuck Me” sticks Ice in a one-on-one lyrical battle in which he is faced by the slam “Fuck Vanilla Ice — he sucks.” “I hope you got more shit than that you weak motherfucker,” Vanilla responds. Go white-boy, go.

“Prozac” steals from Ice’s contribution to Bloodhound Gang’s debut, featuring the groove-heavy rap “Stop as I drop the bomb/Blow up this place like another Vietnam.”

“Zig Zag Stories” is a drug anthem that would have fit better on “Mind Blowin’,” considering the rapper claimed to have found God and come clean last spring.

But Ice has always been known to contradict himself, which can sometimes be half the fun of following this confused heroin.

“Hard To Swallow” will arrive in stores Oct. 20, but don’t expect midnight release parties or even store displays.

Expect a record that is considered so wrong it’s right. A record that will revolutionize pop culture the same way “To The Extreme” did.

Expect rapcore to become mainstream. Expect to mosh.

And us die-hards — we’ll expect respect. And a little ass-kissing.

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Corey Moss is a senior in journalism and mass communication from Urbandale.