It took me a while to get into Eminem, although not because of things he said, but the way he said them. I wasn't feeling his ragged flow; it seemed like a bad novelty act. "My Name Is" was just another song about some guy with a record contract who I didn't know. I resisted getting caught up in the white rapper fury. When I was younger there was Vanilla Ice and Snow, basically white kids copping a black attitude. It was tired, worn out, and I wasn't having any part of it.

Napster changed my mind. I pulled a couple of Eminem songs off that once glorious song sharing service. I got into the flow. I realized his songs were funny and tragic, usually at the same time. And when I heard "The Way I Am," the connection was complete. The song, basically repudiating and accepting all the shit everyone ever said about our hero, was eerily similar to a poem I wrote back in college. The message was: you're right, I'm not who I think I am, I'm who you think I am. And there's nothing I can do to change that. When I read the poem at one of the only readings I ever did (I never claimed to be much of a poet, but I've had a few published anyway), I got an instant reaction. Gasps, whispers and a bit of affirmation that what I said was real.

I was keeping it real before anyone knew that was cool.

I have no idea if Marshall Mathers is keeping it real. He is shadowed in so many personas (all rather similar, but personas nonetheless), it's hard to tell what is real. I do have a feeling, though, that most of what we hear from Eminem, Slim Shady and Marshall Mathers himself are pretty close to the way he really is.

I bought the Slim Shady LP (his major label debut) on the day of a Gay Pride Parade on Central. I knew there was something going on because I had been shooed off the street by police officers, but, not being gay, I was rather clueless. While I was paying for the stack of used CDs (at the late, great Bow Wow Records), I asked the clerk what was going on outside. His answer made me a bit embarrassed. Eminem was being taken to task for his anti-gay lyrics at the time. I was an accessory to this. I ended up apologizing to my gay friend in proxy, but I still bought the CD.

This summer the biggest selling CD of the year came out. The Eminem Show. This guy was on the cover of almost every magazine (including news weeklies as well as entertainment rags), and everyone had a glowing review of the music. Not only is it the best-selling CD, but it's probably the best thing out this year as well. And last week came Eminem's big screen debut, 8 Mile. Critical mass of Eminem has been achieved.

The few days before the movie came out caused a surge of Eminem incidences at work. One of the guys took to playing selected songs loudly and trying to rap along. Everyone seemed to be planning on seeing the flick. And there was one point when it seemed like every time I walked into someone's office, the video was being played. Girls are obsessed with the man, guys want to be him. Exactly the way pop culture icons are supposed to work.

And it's not just kids. We're talking about twenty and thirty-somethings. We're talking about parents of kids. We're talking about everyone.

I can't really say I'm much different, although his persona isn't anywhere close to mine. But I can relate, like everyone else, to a lot of the things he's saying. When there are few dissonant voices in a time of turmoil, you have to take what you can get. Eminem is the right bad boy at the right time.

I'd heard that 8 Mile was kind of like Purple Rain. A semi-autobiographical story of how Eminem became the way that he is. While Purple Rain was a musical with a semblance of a story, 8 Mile is a story with elements of a musical. But the boy comes through, overcomes his obstacles and ends up a better man. A good message for the kids, in between all the cursing, drinking and screwing.

I'm a year older than Marshall Mathers. We grew up in totally different situations. I was a kid in a small town on the edge of New Mexico. He was a kid on the edge of a road called 8 Mile in Detroit. We both had dreams, and they took us in different directions. But right now, at this time, if I needed a role model, this would be the guy.

And because of that, I can understand why everyone can connect with this bad egg cracked from an avalanche of life. I've been listening to The Eminem Show since it came out this summer, and I think it's probably messed with my vocabulary a bit ("motherfucker," "pussy" and "bitch" slip out a bit more these days). And while my roommate and I joke about some of the "skits" that litter the album (I thought you said we were gonna go get SOME bitches, not get THE bitch!), the music is still powerful. A strong voice when most people are speaking softly.

And that voice is the kind of spirit this on the ropes nation needs now.

Matt Worley is the real Matt Worley, all the other Matt Worleys are just in his panties.