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Tag: civil

  • Civil War in Westeros Is Hell

    Civil War in Westeros Is Hell

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    I expected to emerge from “The Red Dragon and the Gold,” the fourth episode of House of the Dragon’s second season, feeling exhilarated. Based on the episode’s title, last week’s preview, and book-reader knowledge of what transpires at Rook’s Rest, I anticipated thrills, adrenaline, and Loot Train Attack–level spectacle from the first mass dragon battle of this show.

    But an hour later, after the credits had rolled, the battle had ended, and at least one main character had died, I instead felt despondent. Not because the episode failed, to be clear—but because it succeeded in its effort to depict a different kind of warfare: chaotic, uncontrollable, and, above all, tragic for everyone involved. It’s as if Dragon were trying its best to prove Francois Truffaut’s “There’s no such thing as an anti-war film” sentiment wrong.

    For numerous episodes, characters have promised that war was coming; now, in the wake of Rhaenyra’s failed peace talks with Alicent in Episode 3, it’s finally, irrevocably here. Even the usurped queen knows it, stating, “Only one choice remains to me: Either I win my claim or die.”

    As was the case with many of Game of Thrones’ most spectacular battle episodes, “The Red Dragon and the Gold” devotes time to characters talking in rooms before climaxing with fire and blood. This episode’s early scenes flesh out sundry plot points and character arcs: Daemon has a delightfully strange conversation with Alys Rivers in Harrenhal; Jace learns the secret “Song of Ice and Fire” prophecy; Alicent drinks moon tea to stave off a potential pregnancy with Criston Cole. But in the end, the shortest episode of Season 2 thus far is all about the battle.

    Last week, Dragon didn’t show the actual Battle of the Burning Mill, just the corpse-filled aftermath. That effective choice left Rook’s Rest as the site of Dragon’s first large-scale depiction of war—and a battle between dragons, at that, which hadn’t dueled in Westeros in more than 80 years. (Vhagar versus little Arrax in the Season 1 finale was less a pitched battle than a quick snack for the former.)

    A set of seemingly curious decisions by Criston Cole sets the stage for this clash. The lord commander of the Kingsguard and hand of the king chooses to march his army to Rook’s Rest—a “pathetic prize,” scoffs Aegon—instead of the more obvious target of Harrenhal, then attacks in broad daylight rather than waiting to lay siege at night. “Fucking madness!” Gwayne Hightower exclaims.

    But the hand hasn’t lost his wits; it’s a trap! By attacking Rook’s Rest, the mainland’s closest castle to Dragonstone, Cole can draw out one of the blacks’ dragons—and then Aemond and Vhagar, lying in wait in a nearby forest, can rise to meet the challenge.

    The first part of this design goes according to plan, as Rhaenys straps on her armor, hops aboard Meleys, and flies into the fray. But to Aemond and Criston’s surprise, so too does Aegon, still sulking after a dressing-down from his mother, who sneers at the king to “do simply what is needed of you: nothing.”

    Before flying off to war, both Rhaenys and Aegon partake in incredibly sweet reunions—or bittersweet ones, in retrospect, after seeing what becomes of the dragons and riders. Rhaenys greets Meleys and Aegon greets Sunfyre with affection, and both take a second to nuzzle their mounts, emphasizing the bond between dragon and rider. Aegon even grins as he sees his gorgeous golden steed, the only creature able to draw a smile from the king since the death of his son.

    But by doing something instead of nothing, Aegon disrupts the greens’ trap. Instead of a one-on-one battle between Meleys and Vhagar, it’s a three-way aerial brawl. Aemond first hangs back instead of going to his brother’s aid, and then, after joining the fray, orders a dracarys blast without compunction or fear for Aegon’s health. Hit full-on by the fire blast, Sunfyre drops like a stone to crash in the forest below.

    This betrayal—which notably does not occur in Fire & Blood, where Aegon and Aemond appear to intentionally team up against Rhaenys—receives the proper setup to slot into the story. Aegon rushes to battle because he resents his brother for “plotting without my authority,” while Aemond smarts from the king’s mockery at the brothel, and from the broader belief that he would serve as a superior leader. (When Aemond taunts Aegon with an impressive High Valyrian vocabulary, the king can only splutter “I can have to … make a … war” in response. Later, Aegon speaks to his dragon in the common tongue, while every other rider uses High Valyrian to give commands.)

    With Sunfyre out of commission, Rhaenys and Meleys pivot to take on Aemond and Vhagar. As the two dragons approach one another, the camera captures Vhagar and Meleys in silhouette from below, hauntingly beautiful as they dance.

    (The one major quibble I have with this episode is the inscrutability of Rhaenys’s decision to turn around to fight Vhagar, rather than fleeing on Meleys, whom Fire & Blood calls “as swift a dragon as Westeros had ever seen.” Did she go back to fight because of her roiling personal life, after she confronts Corlys over his indiscretions and bastard children? Did she believe her dragon had a chance against Vhagar? Did she want to salvage the battle, even facing long odds? This choice is especially confounding because Rhaenys did not take the opportunity to attack with Meleys during Aegon’s crowning in Season 1, when she could have ended the war before it began. “You should’ve burned them when you had the chance,” one of team black’s advisors tells Baela in this episode, referring to her chase of Criston and Gwayne. But that sentiment applies even more to Rhaenys at the dragonpit.)

    The resulting dragon duel is depicted like a tragedy for everyone on the battlefield. Earlier in the episode, Aemond notes, “This war will not be won with dragons alone, but with dragons flying behind armies of men.” That’s true in the context of a long war, but in the (literal) heat of battle, it’s difficult to imagine the men mattering all that much. The soldiers look like helpless little playthings the size of dolls, compared to the behemoths breathing fire above them. Vhagar is so massive that when she goes to the ground, the shockwave knocks Criston from his horse. Then the episode uses slow motion to emphasize the immense damage she casually wreaks, as she crushes two men with the single stomp of a claw.

    The soundscape contributes to this sense of overwhelming violence, from the panicked cries of anonymous foot soldiers to the dragons’ shrieks and squeals of pain. At various points in the battle, music and background sounds fade out to emphasize the central characters’ beleaguered breaths.

    Smoke fills the screen. Screams fill the air. And Meleys’s blood ultimately fills Vhagar’s belly, as Aemond’s mighty mount, the oldest living dragon in the known world, claims another scalp for her collection.

    This climactic death looks shocking in the moment, but how could a clash this intense not result in the death of at least one prominent character? Face clouded by soot, eyes rimmed red, Rhaenys looks out at the field of blood and fire she so wished to avoid—and that’s nearly the last thing she ever sees, because Vhagar rises up to capture Meleys’s neck in her jaws. The smaller dragon is unable to break free, and as the light leaves her eyes, she looks back at her rider—who’d ridden the Red Queen for half a century; who’d arrived at her wedding to Corlys on Meleys’s back—one final time. Then the head breaks free, and the headless dragon and her human plummet to the earth below.

    After Meleys and Rhaenys die, the camera finds Criston, who for a while is the only living person on screen; everyone else is a corpse or a pile of ash. At one point, he attempts to recruit a comrade to help him find Aegon, only for the armor he touches to fall to the ground as the body inside crumples to dust. Eventually, Criston staggers into view of the crater formed when Sunfyre smashed into the forest, but as the episode ends, it remains to be seen whether Aegon is still alive.

    From a plot perspective, it’s unclear—as was the case with the Battle of the Burning Mill—whether either side can claim victory at Rook’s Rest, given the untold carnage on both sides. The dragon is both the symbol of and reason for Targaryen rule in Westeros, so every dragon death serves as a strike against unified Targaryen hegemony. As Rhaenyra said in the show’s pilot episode, without the dragons, the royal family would be “just like everyone else.”

    Fire & Blood describes Viserys’s reign as “the apex of Targaryen power in Westeros,” with “more dragons than ever before.” But in the short span since Viserys’s death, that number has now dwindled by at least two (Arrax and Meleys), maybe three (Sunfyre). Vhagar and Aemond are the culprits in every death—proving their own dominance, surely, but simultaneously weakening the broader power that Aemond’s family wields. It’s no coincidence that, earlier in the episode, Alicent drops and breaks the dragon figurine she’d once repaired for Viserys.

    And from a storytelling perspective, that Dragon would stage its first full-scale (pun intended) battle like such a hopeless disaster story sets the tone for the rest of the series to come. This portrayal is unlike any previous dragon battle in the Thrones universe. During most dragon attacks in the original series, Daenerys and her children were the heroes, so audiences cheered on their rampages against the slave masters in Astapor, the Lannister troops on the Goldroad, and the wights beyond the Wall. Even as people burned alive, those scenes weren’t depicted as horrors; they were triumphs.

    But the Battle of Rook’s Rest brings only devastation, destruction, and death—the fulfillment of Rhaenys’s prediction that there is “no war so bloody as a war between dragons.” Other than Aemond and perhaps Vhagar, nobody escapes unscathed. Even Criston, an architect of the successful battle plan, is knocked out, injured, and witness to the potential demise of his king.

    “Now I’ve barely had the hours to grieve one tragedy before suffering the next,” Alicent laments in this episode, before one of her sons potentially kills another. That challenge might translate to viewers as well—because Dragon is positioning itself as a cinematic commentary on the horrors of war, and the war in question is just getting started.

    Have HotD questions? To appear in Zach’s weekly mailbag, message him @zachkram on Twitter/X or email him at zach.kram@theringer.com.

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    Zach Kram

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  • 19 Burning Questions About Drake, Kendrick Lamar, and Rap’s Civil War

    19 Burning Questions About Drake, Kendrick Lamar, and Rap’s Civil War

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    You knew deep down it was real. When the rough version of Drake’s “Push Ups” leaked online Saturday afternoon, the big question at first was: Was it actually AI? If it was, it would mean someone random had just penned a pretty competent diss track aimed at Kendrick Lamar, Metro Boomin, and a half dozen other rap luminaries. If it wasn’t, it would mean that Aubrey had finally taken the gloves off and was ready to chip a nail. Sure, there were a few lines anyone steeped in Drake lore could’ve gotten off. But AI could never get that specific in its barbs, and AI certainly could never replicate that patented Drake sigh.

    A few hours later, Drake confirmed as much by releasing the full, finished track. He swapped out the beat—the rough cut evoked Tupac’s classic “Hit ’Em Up,” while the final paid homage to Biggie’s “What’s Beef?”—and cut a few lines aimed at Rozay (though the Teflon Don didn’t forget; more on that later). But it was all there: the response the rap world had been waiting on since Kendrick Lamar poked the Canadian bear three weeks ago on “Like That.”

    It’s admittedly not the nuclear detonation Joe Budden promised, but “Push Ups (Drop and Give Me 50)” makes it clear that Drake is up for the fight that rap fans have been waiting on for a generation. He landed disses about Kendrick’s height and former label situation, threw some petty shade at Future and Metro, and then chucked a few grenades at the Weeknd and his team. But if you’ve been anywhere near your For You page this weekend, then you know there’s so much more. (J. Cole behind enemy lines? Nose jobs? Dockers? French Montana? Ja Morant?!) Let’s take a look at the fallout and figure out where things sit—and more importantly, where they could go from here. First up …

    How did we get here?

    Chances are, if you’re reading this, it’s too late for me to explain. But it’s worth recapping how rap’s cold war erupted into a full-blown civil war (and on the weekend Alex Garland released Civil War, naturally). My colleague Justin Charity already ran through a timeline of the Drake-Kendrick feud, which for a decade resulted in little more than subliminal shots and KTT2 fanfic. But the simmering beef was tossed into the fire in March thanks to two unlikely provocateurs: Future and Metro Boomin. The former had seemingly taken offense to a For All the Dogs track that most fans had assumed was a tribute to Drake’s one-time collaborator. (Turns out rapping about how your buddy only sleeps with taken women is not a compliment, though you could forgive us for assuming the man behind “Fuck Russell” would consider it a good thing.) In the case of Metro, the superproducer behind a handful of Drake’s biggest hits started poking Aubrey late last year over award shows, of all things. Back then, Drake responded with some of his typical tough-guy posturing, but then tweets were deleted and everyone put it on the back burner.

    But never underestimate the pettiness of two men who name albums stuff like WE DON’T TRUST YOU and WE STILL DON’T TRUST YOU. The former came out last month and contains “Like That,” which includes the Archduke Ferdinand moment of this war. On the surface, Kendrick Lamar’s guest verse on “Like That” isn’t a diss on the level of, say, “Takeover” or “The Bridge Is Over.” But it took direct aim at Drake and J. Cole—seemingly for the sin of implying on For All the Dogs’ “First Person Shooter” that the two of them and Kendrick make up rap’s Big Three. (Like all good rap beefs, this one seems to be built on the smallest of slights; shout-out to the mic on LL Cool J’s arm.) “Like That” is light on specifics and heavy on old-school rap-battle bragging. (Fitting for the Rodney-O & Joe Cooley–sampling beat.) But what it lacks in pointedness, it makes up for with audaciousness: Here was Kendrick finally taking shots at an artist who’s been too big to fail for too long.

    But beyond giving Rap Twitter enough fodder for a few lifetimes, “Like That” did a few other things:

    • It hit no. 1 on the Hot 100 and worked its way into club rotation—virtually unheard of for a diss track, though not unlike Drake’s casual Meek Mill evisceration, “Back to Back.”
    • It gave everyone else clearance to pile on Drake. And boy, did they.

    So does everyone hate Drake now?

    The list of assumed Aubrey allies who pumped up “Like That” is shocking: Rick Ross! Travis Scott! LeBron James! But this is what years of subliminal disses and bad vibes will get you. Last Friday, Future and Metro released WE STILL DON’T TRUST YOU, and while there was no one seismic “Like That” moment, the 25-track album was littered with guests taking shots at Drake. The Weeknd made fun of him for having leaks in his camp and having “shooters making TikToks.” (Over an Isley Brothers sample!) Rihanna’s babies’ father showed up to brag about securing the very thing Drake’s always coveted. And maybe most damningly, J. Cole showed up on the Disc 1 closer, “Red Leather.” Jermaine didn’t diss his tour mate, and it’s unclear when he actually recorded the verse. But given what transpired a week earlier—when Cole released a tepid diss song about Kendrick, then apologized two nights later, saying he was confused and misled—the Dreamville head’s mere presence felt like Future and Metro were holding an enemy combatant hostage. Which, let’s hope not, because we already know Cole is the type to break under questioning.

    So, J. Cole actually apologized? That wasn’t just some strange dream I had?

    As my buddy Jeff Weiss said: Apologizing is a sign that Cole is a mature, thoughtful human. And it’s also the reason we never want to hear his music again.

    A reminder that any time you have Jadakiss asking “why?” you’re not in a good place.

    OK, so what we came here for: Drake finally responded? Is it any good?

    For weeks, the most we had heard from Drake was him making trigger fingers at the giant Travis Scott facsimile he brought on tour for “SICKO MODE” performances. (Anytime you’re screaming at a floating animatronic head you paid for, you are officially Down Bad.) But Drake broke his relative silence on Saturday with “Push Ups (Drop and Give Me 50).”

    And honestly, it’s fairly impressive, especially when you consider the initial wave of AI rumors—and especially when considering “Like That” has Drake on the defensive for one of the few times in his career. A self-described “20 v. 1,” “Push Ups” takes on almost everyone who had dared come at him in recent weeks. (A$AP Rocky seemingly goes ignored, which says more about Rocky than Drake.) The barbs at Future are mild (“Your first no. 1, I had to put it in your hand” … OK, and?), and Drake swats Metro Boomin away like an annoying gnat with a MIDI controller. (Giving the producer only the tossed-off diss “Shut your ho ass up and make some drums” feels like the modern-day equivalent of Jay-Z giving his lesser rivals only half a bar on “Takeover.”) But the shots at Rick Ross, the Weeknd, and Kendrick are more pointed—and all work to varying degrees. Let’s take those in reverse order.

    Did Drake respond to Kendrick like he needed to?

    Kendrick is admittedly a tough person to diss. He’s a critically beloved, Pulitzer-winning artist who keeps his business to himself (unless he’s having double-album-long therapy sessions). Sure, he’s prone to theater-kid dramatics—the “alien voice/jazz beat” jokes were flying all weekend—but his track record is mostly unimpeachable. (That’s something J. Cole learned the hard way when he tried to lightly critique Kendrick’s catalog on “7 Minute Drill.”) But on “Push Ups” Drake did about as well as you could reasonably expect, especially assuming this is simply his opening salvo.

    The easiest, most obvious jokes come at the expense of the famously short Kendrick’s height. (Most notably, “How the fuck you big steppin’ with a size seven men’s on?”—a pretty great punch line, if I do say so myself.) Those have caused a lot of moralizing, as though Drake should be above schoolyard-bully-style insults. But it ignores the reality that rap beef has always revolved around—and often been at its best when it leans into—childish name-calling. (Let’s never forget that “Ether”—widely considered one of the best diss tracks ever, to the point that the title has been a go-to verb in these kinds of battles—includes a reference to “Gay-Z and Cock-A-Fella Records.”)

    But some of the other lines land pretty hard. For Drake—one of the biggest pop stars in history—to mock Kendrick for doing songs with Maroon 5 and Taylor Swift seems like a silly proposition on the surface. But it works because (1) Drake has never stooped to those specific levels of pandering, (2) Drake isn’t a Pulitzer-winning artist who’s staked his reputation on high art, and (3) the bars are, simply put, pretty good. (“You better make it witty!”) The Prince/Michael Jackson lines—a response to Kendrick on “Like That,” which was a response to Drake on “First Person Shooter,” if you’re updating your flow chart at home—are inspired. (“What’s a prince to a king? He a son” is an entendre that would make my colleague and noted Kendrick lover Cole Cuchna at Dissect proud. Lest you forget, Jackson’s son is literally named Prince.) And of course, there’s the Whitney/Bodyguard line, which is a reference to not only the diamond-selling singer and her most famous movie role, but also seemingly an allusion to Kendrick’s partner, Whitney Alford. Assuming it is a double entendre—and there’s little reason to doubt that it is—it’s impossible not to recall that Whitney Houston’s character slept with her bodyguard. We have no evidence that anything happened in Kendrick’s life to evoke that line, and I’m struggling to find a suggestion of something happening outside of “Push Ups,” but Drake’s too savvy not to understand what he was doing.


    But wait—hasn’t Drake gotten in trouble for mentioning significant others before?

    You’d figure he’d know better by now! In 2018, after years of subliminals fired at him by Pusha T, Drake responded with “Duppy Freestyle.” Amid a bunch of lukewarm shots about Pusha lying about his drug-dealing prowess, Drake made one of the worst mistakes of his career. “I told you keep playin’ with my name / And I’ma let it ring on you like Virginia Williams,” he rapped, invoking Pusha’s then fiancée, now wife, and giving Push carte blanche to respond however he thought appropriate. Within days, we had “The Story of Adidon” and “you are hiding a child,” bullying Drake into being a father publicly. It’s a blemish that no number of no. 1 records can ever fully erase.

    Is Drake hiding another child?

    You know that somewhere, Pusha T and his private investigator are waiting to get tagged into this mess, but at the moment, we can only assume that Drake’s not playing border control yet again. We can also assume, however, that of everything Drake said about Kendrick, this will be the line that truly lights the fuse on this powder keg.

    What about this Top Dawg business on “Push Ups”?

    If there’s fault to be found with Drake’s response, it’s that the central premise falls apart under light scrutiny. The “drop and give me 50” hook is a slick reference to infamous shit talker Curtis Jackson. But it’s also a callback to a video on Kendrick’s burner Instagram of him doing push-ups. On yet another level, the implication is that Kendrick is splitting as much as 50 percent of his profits with Top Dawg Entertainment, the label he was signed to for 17 years. It’s a fairly clever conceit—“The way you doin’ splits, bitch, your pants might rip” is a little bit of a groaner, but that’s what you sign up for with Drake—however, it ignores reality. First, Kendrick famously left TDE in 2022 to start a new venture named pgLang (distributed by Columbia Records, which also makes the Interscope lines in “Push Ups” feel dated at best). Second, up through Scorpion, Drake was signed to Young Money, an imprint of Cash Money. The parent label, of course, is run by Birdman, and it was once sued by Lil Wayne for $51 million for violating his contract and withholding vast amounts of money. As Pusha once rapped—directly to Drake—“The M’s count different when Baby divide the pie.”

    The lesson here: Let the rapper who is not in an exploitative contract cast the first stone.

    OK, but what about the Weeknd? Where does a singer fit into this?

    In hindsight, one of the strangest quirks of 21st-century pop music is that two of the three biggest stars in the business come from Toronto. That should make them natural allies, if not friends—aren’t Canadians supposed to be nice?—but Drake and the Weeknd have been anything but. They collaborated in 2011 on Take Care’s “Crew Love,” which began life as a solo Weeknd song before Abel gifted it to Drake. (While possibly gifting him much more.) But from there, a rift began: The Weeknd signed with Republic instead of OVO (a move no one can fault him for when you look at his career next to, say, PartyNextDoor’s); rumors surfaced about Drake dating the Weeknd’s ex Bella Hadid; and despite some one-off collaborations and show appearances, they never seemed to like each other very much. (The Weeknd appears to be as much of a fan of the hiding-a-child line as we are at The Ringer.)

    So all things told, it wasn’t a complete shock when the Weeknd popped up on WE STILL DON’T TRUST YOU last Friday, gleefully crooning not-so-veiled Drake disses on “All to Myself.” (It’s worth pausing again to highlight “they shooters making TikToks,” an honestly inspired slight that pretty much sums up the Drake experience.) But Aubrey responded in kind on “Push Ups.” He fires a few shots at the Weeknd’s manager, Cash, claiming that he used to be a “blunt runner” for Chubbs, Drake’s head of security. (Update your flow chart—we are deep into Canadian music politics.) And more pointedly, he implies the Weeknd is showering men with gifts in exchange for gifts. It doesn’t matter that Drake may be evolved enough to admit he gets his nails done. You know what they say: It’s not a real rap beef until someone gets homophobic.

    OK, but what about Rick Ross? I thought he and Drake were friends?

    This may have been the most surprising development of the past three weeks. After a handful of classic collabs between them over a dozen or so years, it turns out that Rick Ross and Drake just don’t like each other. In the wake of “Like That,” Rozay posted an IG story of him bumping Kendrick’s diss. So when it came time for “Push Ups,” Drake made it clear he couldn’t overlook: He made allusions to Ross’s time as a correctional officer, his age, and in the leaked early demo version of “Push Ups,” Ross’s relationship with Diddy, who is currently the subject of a sex trafficking investigation and several sexual misconduct and abuse lawsuits. That line didn’t make the final version of “Push Ups,” but Ross obviously didn’t take it lightly.

    Why is the Rick Ross response the first track in this sprawling beef that feels like a true diss song?

    This was something first pointed out by the former host of The Ringer’s NO SKIPS podcast and esteemed rap journalist Brandon “Jinx” Jenkins: “Champagne Moments”—which Ross apparently recorded Saturday in the hours after “Push Ups” dropped—captured the spirit that most rap fans were looking for in this melee.

    Maybe it was the fact that the song was spread through sketchy MP3 sites and Dat Piff’s YouTube channel. Or maybe it was the pure vitriol. But if you wanted real beef, you’ve finally got it. Over the course of three verses, the Boss of All Bosses mocks Drake for leaks in his camp, using ghostwriters (an old reliable), and getting put on only because of Lil Wayne, all while repeatedly calling Aubrey a “white boy.” (It’s complicated.) It’s the type of directness and specificity that “Like That” lacked—but it also, like any great Rick Ross song, sounds luxurious. The most damning bits of “Champagne Moments,” however, come during the spoken word outro, when Ross [deep breath] says Drake is wearing funny clothes at his shows to hide the fact his six-pack is gone, that he also wears Dockers with no underwear (???), and that he had a nose job “to make [his] nose smaller than [his] father nose,” all because he was ashamed of his race. (Like I said, it’s complicated.)

    Wait, Drake had a nose job?!?!

    Before you go Googling “Drake nose job,” just know that Drake and his mother have been texting about it, and they seem to think it’s silly (and possibly racist).

    I’m cackling at the thought of Drake having to explain who Rick Ross is to his mom the same way I would have to with mine. But bringing Sandi into this hasn’t stopped Rozay from doubling down.

    Maybe the actual lesson is don’t ask Rick Ross to do push-ups, because that’s light work for him.

    So where does French Montana fit into this massive beef?

    As is typically the case with French, on the fringes. During that lengthy outro, Ross said he got involved only because Drake had sent a cease-and-desist order to French Montana’s team to have a verse of his removed from February’s Mac & Cheese 5. Well, the C&D worked because it doesn’t appear on French’s mixtape. But we now have a Streisand-effect situation on our hands because the verse is online and people are paying attention. And boy …

    Uh … so which rapper’s wife is Drake alluding to sleeping with?

    The speculation is that Drake is alluding to Kim Kardashian, Kanye’s ex-wife. And while we have no firm evidence that happened, Kim’s voice does appear prominently on last year’s “Search & Rescue.” (It’s complicated, messy, and petty—the only big three Drake really cares about.)

    Is Kanye going to get involved now?

    Let’s just hope we can get J. Prince on the line before someone (read: Kanye) does something even more foolish. We shudder to think what disses his brain would come up with.

    And you said something about Ja Morant?

    Of all the (alleged) targets on “Push Ups,” the most unexpected isn’t even a rapper or singer. Ja Morant—the NBA All-Star who has been suspended by the league twice for flashing guns on IG Live—seemingly caught a stray from Drake. Not that it was entirely undeserved, because …

    It would seem Ja took time away from shoulder rehab to insert himself in the biggest rap feud of the decade.

    Toward the end of “Push Ups,” Drake addresses the “hooper that be bustin’ out the griddy,” seemingly a reference to Ja’s preferred means of celebration. But Drake also references that “little heartbroken Twitter shit,” possibly an acknowledgment of the rumors that he went on a date with Ja’s ex Brooklyn Nikole. (One day, we’ll have a conversation about how women get used as pawns in these kinds of battles. But for now, I’ll just highlight how this puts Drake’s song in the lineage of another Jay-Z diss track, “Super Ugly”—the “me and the boy AI” song. Not exactly a proud lineage with that one.)

    If Drake and Ja can’t settle this one on (proverbial) wax, maybe they can take it to the hardwood. At least then, maybe J. Cole can prove himself useful.

    Is this all a lose-lose for Drake?

    Quite possibly! While “Push Ups” wasn’t exactly nuclear, it was still effective—and easily the best song to come out of the battle so far. And yet it feels like Round 1 of this battle is a draw, at best. Despite being light on specifics, Kendrick’s “Like That” verse did more damage than Drake’s four-minute, tea-spilling response. The most memorable lines to come out of Saturday may have been from Ross’s monologue about Dockers and cosmetic surgery. And Future and Metro have dropped two of the three best albums of the year in less than a month. You have to assume Kendrick has something else lined up—Drake alluded to as much in the original leaked version of “Push Ups,” suggesting that K.Dot’s song was recorded four years ago—and at this point, you have to assume someone else will jump into this Royal Rumble. (Cut to Pusha in the corner rubbing his hands together like Birdman.) “Push Ups” showed Drake can play effective defense—and he needed to after the embarrassment of “Adidon” six years ago—but if this was his best shot, Kendrick may not need to even say much in response to walk away the winner. (Though if we’re to believe this ScHoolboy Q tweet, we may find out if that’s the case soon.)

    But who do you think is going to win?

    Well, the easy answer is DJ Akademiks’s engagement. But none of these tracks are likely to change anyone’s mind. The Drake haters have already deemed the response trash, Aubrey’s Angels have already declared this the next “Hit ’Em Up,” and A$AP Rocky can’t even get a crumb of a response, but is still Rihanna’s partner. Maybe the actual winner is us because rap hasn’t been this fun in years. (For this writer, since the first time I heard the phrase “you are hiding a child,” if I’m being honest.) Just sit back and enjoy, because as Rick Ross promised, we’re only in the first quarter.

    OK, one last question: Could they all still make up?

    J. Cole’s response to this whole mess is admirable on a personal level, but embarrassing on a competitive level. Yet his apology also highlights a few realities of the situation: (1) Aside from Metro, these are all men hovering around the age of 40, and (2) no one has said anything they can’t take back yet. (Well, maybe aside from Ricky.) “I’m a better rapper than you” or “you’re short” or “your last album wasn’t that great” isn’t exactly a lethal blow. And even when it does get extremely personal, there’s precedent for rappers burying the hatchet—it took a few years, but eventually Nas and Jay-Z became collaborators. For my money, I expect we’ll see Drake, Kendrick, and Cole playing nice on a song (produced by Metro) at some point in the distant future. (Hopefully not with Future, though—Nayvadius is too cool for that shit.)

    But you know, even if this alleged Big Three won’t get on a track together, we always have AI to make that collaboration a (virtual) reality. By that time, it’ll probably even be able to get the Drake sigh right. It may even give us an answer to what J. Cole was thinking.

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    Justin Sayles

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  • ‘Civil War’ With Alex Garland! Plus: The 10 Most Anticipated Movies Out of CinemaCon.

    ‘Civil War’ With Alex Garland! Plus: The 10 Most Anticipated Movies Out of CinemaCon.

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    Sean and Amanda are joined by Chris Ryan to run through the 10 most anticipated movies from this week’s CinemaCon, which Sean attended (1:00). Then, they have a long—and, at times, combative—discussion about Alex Garland’s big-budget A24 release, Civil War (44:00), delving into the film’s politics (or lack thereof), point of view, cinematic style, and more. Finally, Sean is joined by Garland to answer questions regarding some of those very things and where he sees this in the arc of his career, as well as discuss whether he will take a step back from filmmaking (1:50:00).

    Hosts: Sean Fennessey and Amanda Dobbins
    Guests: Chris Ryan and Alex Garland
    Senior Producer: Bobby Wagner

    Subscribe: Spotify / Apple Podcasts / Stitcher / RSS

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    Sean Fennessey

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  • Gender War, Civil War, and the Loyalty of a Barber

    Gender War, Civil War, and the Loyalty of a Barber

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    Van Lathan and Rachel Lindsay check back in to discuss Simon Biles’s recent interview with husband Jonathan Owens (18:28), and Kevin Hart’s lawsuit against Tasha K (36:49). Plus, Nikki Haley struggles to say “slavery” (51:59), and a barber gets petty (1:16:22).

    ‌Hosts: Van Lathan and Rachel Lindsay
    Producers: Donnie Beacham Jr. and Ashleigh Smith

    Subscribe: Spotify / Apple Podcasts / Stitcher

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    Van Lathan

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