Yes, people were talking about the Made Men, but as usual, it was for all of the wrong reasons. Ray, however, couldn’t tell the difference and thought it was all good.

The Rap Pages cover ended up being the worst thing that ever happened to this or any other Source staff. Ray was livid that he had to travel across the county to get the love that he should have gotten at home. His ego inflated and he began to berate the staff. He eventually called a meeting and, as the story goes, locked the entire editorial staff in a conference room. Also in the conference room were selected members of Ray’s “security detail.” From all accounts that I have heard of that day, Ray was in rare form. He had a stack of recent issues of The Source, and went through them all, pointing out their shortcomings; he literally had much of The Source staff in tears. People were literally holding hands under the table and both men and women exchanged tear-filled glances. I’ve even heard that there was an Uzi on the table. It was, they said, the worst staff meeting ever.

Soon there would be changes, and thus began the next mass editorial exodus. The crazy part was this: outside of the original Mind Squad, this staff was probably the most capable team that the magazine had ever fielded, but one by one Ray managed to drive them out and replace them with an endless succession of cheaper, more malleable equivalents.

Soon Ray would reveal himself as the “co-owner” of The Source — a secret so tightly held that no one, not even Dave Mays, knew about it until it was revealed in the Miami Herald one wacky morning. A Made Men album would finally receive a 4.5 mic rating and not long after that Ray would at long last find himself on the cover of The Source.

Ray’s Source cover would knock over even more dominos and eventually set the stage for much of the misfortune that is currently decimating the magazine: pending bankruptcy; staffers working without benefits; falling circulation; declining ad sales; smaller office space; rubber paychecks; a revolving door of employees; a ban on Dr. Dre, Eminem and The G-Unit. The list goes on and on.

But it would never have happened if Ray had not taken the initial bait. I figured out a long time ago — but not quick enough to save myself — that the best way to fuck with Ray is to make sure that he gets everything he wants and then all you have to do is sit back, put your feet up and watch him fuck it all off. The law of the universe states that everything he touches must turn to shit. I was happy to see him on the cover of Rap Pages because I knew that it would be the beginning of the end for him. It’s like in that old movie Carrie. Yeah, you are the queen of the prom, but look out for that bucket filled with pigs’ blood. Ka-Bonk! Continued on page 8 »