Throwback Thursday: "Foe tha Love of $" — Bone Thugs-N-Harmony ft. Eazy E

If you're in your 30s, then 21 years ago you were probably pumping this at volumes that made your parents angry and your neighbors uncomfortable. Say what you will about Bone Thugs, but they still remain one-of-a-kind. No group has ever emerged with that kind of harmonious gangsta flow before or since.

Charles in Charge

We are all Charles Ramsey. #weateribstogether
— Jokediggy (@Jokediggy) May 7, 2013

Charles Ramsey is the definition of "trill." He's the unfiltered hero of this week's media sensation, the rescue of three Cleveland kidnapping victims. He's America. He's my family reunions. He's why the Chappelle Show was the greatest sociopolitical commentary our generation has ever known. He's why Dave eventually walked away. He's real life. He's the internet. He's why Obama's two terms are no different, racially, than Bush's two terms. He's why things are better now than they've ever been.

He's Charles Ramsey. He's real. As. Fuck.

Congrats Charles. And welcome home Amanda Berry, Georgina DeJesus, and Michele Knight.

Cleveland vs. LeBron

The day has come. After the flaming jerseys, media whirlwinds, jokes, tears, and anger in the five months since "The Decision", the first page in the next chapter of Cleveland's sports history begins tonight: Heat @ Cavs.

Wright Thompson put together an incredible piece on Cleveland, its people, and what sports and LeBron mean to this city "on a precipice" for ESPN's Outside The Lines.

He accosts me for my company's role in "The Decision" -- I actually understand his anger, though I won't say that to his face -- and I tell him what he can do to himself. He likes this answer, which is as Cleveland as his rage at the four letters on my press pass. Raab motions me over to the side of the locker room and digs around in his backpack until he finds it, safe in a plastic bag: a ticket stub. It's from the 1964 NFL Championship Game -- the last title the city won. He passes it to me carefully. Section 7, Row Z, Seat 19. Carrying this stub doesn't make him strange. It makes him a Cleveland sports fan.

I recommend reading the whole story, which reveals a lot about both Cleveland and LeBron James.

I—and likely 99% of the nation—will be hoping for a Cavs win (I'll also be hoping for a win for the Cavs fans, in that no one does anything incredibly stupid or harmful at the game tonight; no need to threaten or throw batteries, folks). My boys Esq and Baby Joey, though, ever the LeBron groupies, will be waiting for James outside of the locker room at the game tonight, too. I can't wait to hear their tales of this night when they get back.

Unless the Heat win. Then I won't be so lucky as to not hear their retelling of the night.

Cleveland Heat

Remember back when LeBron cut out the heart of an entire region in one hour of primetime television?

Yeah, those wounds weren't healed by his Nike ad.

In the Heat of the Night

At approximately 9:25 PM EST, the world got its answer: Lebron James is going to Miami. Whew, thank god THAT’s over.

Well, not exactly. As one city celebrates without actually having won anything, another city mourns yet one more moment of ruinous heartbreak in a generation of sports tragedy. But tomorrow, when the GHB-laced mojitos give way to the queasy unnerve of an uncertain future, the fans in Miami may find themselves dealing with a bit of remorse.

Miami is now the “other woman.” It’s the amoral hussy who stole away Cleveland’s one true love. See that wounded, mascara-streaked, wailing woman on the banks of the Cuyahoga River? The man that did that to her, the man she thought she would live the rest of her days beside, who would take her to a glorious future; the man who, after seven years, tore her heart from her chest on live, primetime television without ever giving her the ring she so badly wanted? He’s the man standing beside you, promising you all of those same forevers, all of the same glories.

And sure, you can tell yourself that no two relationships are the same. You can even choose to believe him when he tells you that what you and he have is nothing like what he had with his ex. But somewhere, back in the damp, quiet, haunted corners of your mind, will always be the question you desperately want to know but don’t dare ask: If he did it to her, will he do it to me, too?