I LOVE GETTING SWAGGER-JACKED. Been happening all my life, people. When Don Johnson was bustin' bad guys during prime time, I crushed 'em with the canary-yellow linen suit at my junior-high prom. (What up, Tasha? You miss me?) Before summer's end, I saw a few too many people on the block rockin' linens to Sunday school. Goddamn it.

In high school I wore so much Girbaud the student body probably thought I was related to Marithe and Francois. Little by little, the Guess clan at the academy converted. And then there was college—I had my own Polo mansion. Hilfiger reigned supreme at the time, but in my opinion, his bright colors were dull. And I couldn't get with the numbers on the back; I wasn't a professional athlete. So I wore 'Lo from head to toe (the wife junked my navy-blue Indian head sweater, but I still have plenty of classics) and, slowly, some very staunch Tommy disciples converted. Praise God!

The months of June to August are fast approaching. Time to get in gear, KING readers. I'm not trying to rearrange your closet; I just wanna give you some game so you can paint that perfect picture on your frame. Now, I'm no stylist, but I do have style. So pay attention to the things the magazine has endorsed this issue. And don't screw your face up 'cause we've cosigned the prep look—it's not exclusive to Ivy Leaguers, playboy.

I'm off a couple block parties and the beach this summer. Gonna cool off from watching the Democratic party's inner turmoil hand us another four years of Republican leadership. I call it like I see it, folks. John McCain, unfortunately, will be hosting bingo nights at the White House this time next year. But I'm taking it light this issue—Barry Bonds'–workload light. (Read "You're Out!,” page 70, for some insight on that. It's another hit!) So while I'm finding future Dollicia Bryans for the next issue, you do the same. Consider yourself deputized. Just don't get sand in your face while recruiting.

Jermaine Hall
Editor in Chief