RIFF MARKET

Author Does Not Plan on Meeting Proof in Heaven

My grandmother's favorite writer Mitch Albom ("because he's not afraid to write like a woman," she says) just wrote about rap music, this time about (in celebration of?) the Detroit rapper Proof's violent death. Pitting Proof's lyrics against the circumstances of his murder, Albom points out the contradiction between, get this, Proof's family praising him for "his love of people" and one line of a Proof song that goes "you got a gun on your waist/ I do too."

Albom writes: "For those who say the thug image is just part of rap's 'art,' it's role-playing, why don't I know the difference -- well, I do. Here's the difference. A bullet."

But would Albom have considered the situation differently if he had spent time with Proof during the rapper's final hours? Here are some excerpts from the theoretical Albom book entitled Wednesdays With Proof:

Proof was sitting up in his hospital bed when I got to his room. He was talking to himself--it was like he was rapping, just like in his songs. I asked him what he was rapping about. He told me 'life.'

I wanted to ask Proof about his rap music. I even brought him some beats from the streets that I found in a box in the ghetto. When I arrived Proof was sitting in his hospital bed like he always does--but this time he was sleeping. Was he dreaming about gun violence? I would never find out the answer.

In his rap music Proof talked a lot about "fucking bitches" and "slinging rock." But where are those bitches now, when Proof needs them most? I asked the doctor if he had any bitches for Proof to fuck. The doctor said no.