It's not a shock that campus cop killed Sam DuBose (I really can't watch the video), but it is one that the cop is actually being condemned and indicted for murder. Without that footage, and without this rage that's been sparked in the last two years, that shit wouldn't have even happened, though. It's just too bad that they weren't yet scared of their cities burning back when they let Trayvon Martin's killer get off.
Meanwhile, five black women—Sandra Bland, Raynetta Turner, Joyce Curnell, Kindra Chapman, and Ralkina Jones—all died in jail in the month of July. A group of armed white-supremacist terrorists pulled up to a black child's birthday party in Georgia, threatened people's lives, and drove off, unmolested by the police. It just doesn't stop. War is on—duh. Somehow, I have zero time for the punk-rock devil's advocates and liberal well-meaning whites packing their endless glib questions and corny contradictions who need convincing that something's wrong. You, my former friends, are it. It's about as hard to miss as those Blue Angels currently screaming through the Seattle skies, those gloriously annoying, outmoded symbols of American imperialism. Forgive my lack of enthusiasm in general.
Now: Complex recently dropped the half-ass "Seattle Is Much More Than Macklemore" feature that somebody has to write every year—and compiled an actually decent playlist of local hitters. By the time you see this, Juice Radio will be nearing the conclusion of its own fourth annual countdown of the #FreshestInTheNW, including Gifted Gab, Porter Ray, Sol, BFA, and Choice. Oooh, people love them some lists—love ranking things, love seeing their favorite hometown heroes be an annual blip on some national outlet's radar, love hating when they or their friends inevitably aren't there—and I love love. But as my mother always told me, love don't pay the rent, for which I can vouch from experience. Love pays about as much as a publication pays its freelancers.
But while we're talking Complex—that article happened only because Macklemore & Ryan Lewis are on this month's cover, which would indicate that a new album is coming soon. In Kris Ex's profile, Mack admitted relapsing again: pills, weed, driving around—lost. I don't think the problem he's talking about is the weed or whatever; it's that loss of direction, of momentum, that fear and self-sabotage that comes from not loving yourself enough. You don't know what that's like?
A lot of people take exception to the idea of Mack's relapse as an epic drug story, especially since—as noted in the comments section by 206's Death & Acid producer Diogenes—Seattle's heroin deaths have jumped 58 percent since 2014. Every rapper wants to be Kurt Cobain, and every 12-year-old listening to these rappers is reciting their opiate-crazed lyrics like scripture, and oh those happy grunge days are back again. Except nobody's coming to sign us this time. So sign yourself, love yourself, and help others.
And, rappers, if you ever need anything, please don't hesitate to ask someone else first.