Good morning, John. This is one of those videos that you write 15 times, and you still aren't happy with. But here goes. After Christina Grimmie was murdered, I ran away from home. I went camping in a place where there was no cell service. I spent that time with my friends, not wanting to confront the reality that someone who shared my passions and ambitions had been killed doing what she loved, and something that I had just spent the last two weeks of my life doing, needing fans after a show. And I spent that time crying, and feeling the frowness of my own body in a way I never had before. Understanding how easy it is to have it all taken away. That, I imagine, is similar to how every police officer in America felt after the shootings in Dallas. Looking at their family and knowing that they could be taken away, not just in the course of doing their job, but because of what their job is. A difficult job that has usually done well. And now, the ones that have options of exploring other careers, maybe they're thinking this job isn't so worth it anymore. And then I think of my neighbors and friends and fellow creators who have felt the frowness of their own bodies for their whole lives, and the frowness of their children's and their parents' bodies, not because of what they do, but because of the color of their skin, because of who they are, people who have lived their whole lives under that weight, because they're more likely to be seen as a threat, because they know that any insignificant little move that could be seen as a suspicious action could mean the end of them. I can never fully understand that experience, but I can listen and I can be open and I can do some research myself. Research that shows that a black person being arrested by a police officer is more likely to be shot, injured, pepper sprayed, tased, and beaten. Research that shows that they're more likely to be convicted of crimes and get plea deals that involve prison sentences. And that shows that once convicted, they're more likely to receive longer, harsher sentences than the average American. We're promised that the law sees all of us equally, but we know that's not true. We aren't that surprised when it's a young white man who stands convicted of rape that we hear from a judge about the loss of his future and the terrible tragedy of all of the opportunity that a harsh sentence would bring this person. But when it's a young black man convicted of selling pot going to jail, well, that's not that big of a deal. We know this, we've seen this. It's in the experience of every black American I've talked to about this and the data consistently shows it. So when we say black lives matter, we aren't just talking about Alton Sterling and Philando Castile and Michael Brown and Recky Aboid and Sandra Bland and Tamir Rice. We're talking about a fundamental and deep-seated and destructive belief in this country that black lives matter less. A belief that's expressed at every level of society, but as a white person, I could go my entire life completely ignorant of. But that black Americans are fully aware of and made aware of, even as children. To the black members of this community, thank you for being a part of what we're doing here. And thank you for your strength and your courage and for sharing your experiences with us. A while back, John, you created a playlist of a bunch of different creators sharing their perspectives and experiences on this stuff. And I've added to that and I've put it down in the description. We only get to have our one life through which to experience the world. And we're lucky to be able to have this platform through which we can understand other people's experiences of the world. So everybody, if you can, if you have time today, just take some time to listen. Not to shout or judge or fight or dismiss or even comment just that most underappreciated verban all of internet discourse. Listen, it's not so bad. John, I'll see you on Tuesday.