Has it been 13 years since The Marshall Mathers LP found its way into my collection? A 17-year-old, skinny high school student whose music collection was limited to the disenfranchised post grunge albums and industrial rabble-rousers proclaiming god was dead. I heard about Eminem—hi, my name is cheekacheeka Slim Shady—but rap was for assholes with their pants sagging so low you wondered why the fuck they didn’t just walk around in their boxers. But his third studio album hit me hard. “The Way I Am,” “Marshall Mathers,” and “Stan” hit me hard that not all rap albums are full of shit. That Eminem had a gift and he was going to change the rap world with it. Now, I’m a 30-year-old man and his…