Scott Sargent

"The real hypocrites are the morons telling Cleveland to ‘get over it,’ as if the place hasn’t gotten over it, or as if ‘over it’ is best defined by some asshole who likes telling other people how to feel and act."

Scott Raab on hypocrites, schoolmarms and, naturally, LeBron James

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The needle begins to whir again as Machine Gun Kelly takes his turn in the chair, his bare chest exposing what must be hundreds of tattoos all huddled together on a sinewy frame. A spider’s abdomen encircles his right nipple. Pac-Man chases a yellow dot across his collarbone. The name “Casie” — the two-year-old daughter he had with his onetime girlfriend — runs along his rib cage in black ink, the lettering rendered in swooping cursive.

Today, Kelly will add the words “Locals Only” just below his ribs. It will be done up — like almost all of his bodywork — by Alfonso “Cev” Ceven, the owner of Ohio City Tattoo. Like the “216” that runs down his right arm, the latest ink is yet another glimpse into the complicated web that is Machine Gun Kelly’s life and the city he was unceremoniously dropped into — the one he, unlike other icons before him, refuses to leave behind.

Jordan Zirm at Cleveland Scene

Progressive.  (Or: Feller’s Room)

"Some cities are tortured by their heroes. Ottawa when the Senators were owned by Toronto; Buffalo when the Bills were great and when Brett Hull’s skate was in the crease; Toronto’s hockey fans for four decades; Cleveland in perpetuity."

Bruce Arthur