Dear Marshall,
You will be ranked with Homer, Virgil, Dante, and Shakespeare. When the rise and fall of American culture is someday recorded in history books, they will say that one poet captured all that was both great and terrible of our country and of our times. You will be the art that is cherished and revered and passed forward from generation to generation, jealously guarded against loss. Your work sublimates music and language and transcends even what you, perhaps, aimed to achieve. You are undoubtedly and undeniably the greatest of all time, and only a petty fool would suggest otherwise.
Your art is one of the finer things in life, and it communicates to the heart and brings happiness and even tears of joy to the listener. I am grateful that I did not live and die before your time, lest I lived a life deprived of your poetry. Thank you for working tirelessly. Please do not ever stop.
To everybody else: This is his best album yet, as if he could even top what he’d already achieved. As Em, himself, says, if you don’t see that, it’s not his fault that you’re too stupid to see the difference between what he produces and the rubbish that everyone else in the game produces. He is a master poet, and if not for him, poetry might have met its death in the 21st century. Everyone else will come and go and be forgotten, but Em will remain. His art is priceless and I would gladly pay a hundredfold the $9.49 I paid for this album.