Craig Shapiro was an early investor in Purple Rain: The Musical, an upcoming stage adaptation of the beloved 1984 Prince film. But this major opportunity wasn’t just about business—it’s the realization of a “lifelong dream” that began in childhood.

“I’m a massive fan,” he tells GOOD over Zoom from his home in Washington D.C. “I have two older cousins who were almost like big brothers to me—one is six years older than me, and one is nine years older. When I was a little kid, they were really into Prince. It was the first music I remember. I looked up to them: ‘Oh, my God, they are the coolest guys in the whole world!’ Whatever music they listened to, I said, ‘I’ve gotta listen to that.’ We used to go to the beach in the summer [growing up], and they brought a cassette tape of Purple Rain. I was like, “This is dripping with awesomeness.’”

Decades later, shortly after Prince died in 2016, Shapiro started hearing whispers about a possible Broadway adaptation. So the investor, a former GOOD Magazine collaborator and founder of the venture-capital firm Collaborative Fund, made the right connections and became involved in the musical—a buzzed-about project directed by Tony-nominee Lileana Blain-Cruz, with a book by Pulitzer Prize finalist Branden Jacobs-Jenkins, music supervision, arrangements, and orchestrations by Tony winner Jason Michael Webb, and choreography by Ebony Williams. Crucially for Prince fans, it also features two of The Artist’s core musical collaborators, drummer Bobby Z. and keyboardist Morris Hayes, as music advisors.

Before hitting Broadway, the production will take flight in the perfect location, running October 16-November 16 at the State Theatre in Prince’s native Minneapolis. “I hope that there’s going to be a lot of coverage when this thing hits Broadway,” Shapiro says, “but right now it’s still flying under the radar. It’s so Prince.”

He spoke to GOOD about the extent of his Prince fandom, how he got involved in the musical, and the unifying power of Purple Rain.

Shapiro’s Prince fandom

Can you talk about your personal connection to the film and Prince’s work? How did that lead you to getting involved with the musical?

[Years after discovering Purple Rain], I joined the [fan club] New Power Generation Music Club. I went to at least a dozen live performances at Hard Rock in L.A., the Fillmore in San Francisco, the Cap Center in D.C.—big venues, small venues. In fact, I saw him on his final tour, Piano & a Microphone, in Oakland. It was absolutely stunning, and he passed shortly after that. There were rumors about this potential Broadway show, and I was like, “I’m so far outside of that world and community, but if there’s a way I can get involved and be supportive, that would be a lifelong dream.” As a venture capitalist, I see how hard it is to start something new, to cobble together money early on. I thought this could be a way that my wife and I could support them, to potentially give them some initial fuel financially to get that production going.

I’m still kicking myself because Prince came through Atlanta on that tour, and I wasn’t able to make the show. His shows at the Fox Theatre were his last ever.

He was such an amazing talent, a musical genius, and the fact that he played every instrument. He had such a sense of humor, too. Even during that last show [I attended], he was just messing with the crowd. He was a human being, and we all have struggles and insecurities, but he showed up in a way that almost seemed like he was having fun with the world, despite his massive celebrity and success. He had kind of a wry smile. I’ll never forget that show—my wife and I went, and we still talk about it. He just oozed this amazing inner confidence that was such a wild mixture of masculinity, femininity—it was like somebody who is living their true self, which is so refreshing.

The musical’s “authenticity”

One unique element of the Purple Rain musical is having two longtime Prince bandmates, Bobby Z. and Morris Hayes, as advisers. It really gives the project a kind of pedigree, especially given how particular and meticulous Prince was about his music. Can you talk about their involvement—what exactly are they doing as advisers? Is it just quality control?

I don’t know the intricacies of their involvement, but I have to imagine it’s tied to the quality and the accuracy and authenticity of the production. I’m sure you know this, but Bobby Z. was Prince’s original drummer and [appeared in] the Purple Rain film. He literally lived the story with Prince, so I think having his direct involvement is—again, I can’t speak to the day to day—but it’s a key piece. For Morris, he spent more than 20 years as Prince’s keyboardist [primarily from 1992 to 2012] and music director, so he helped shape some of Prince’s biggest live moments. When you asked that question, it was spot on because [having them involved] kind of ensures that this isn’t going to run afoul of the movie and music. Between the two of them, they really knew Prince’s music best. Their fingerprints are all over his legacy. I think it’s rare for a Broadway show to have this kind of direct line back to the original artist, which is a nice tribute.

Another nice tribute is that the musical is being staged in Minneapolis before heading to Broadway. It seems rather obvious why you’d want to do that, but can you talk about that decision? It feels like a “best of both worlds” situation.

I couldn’t agree more. I wasn’t involved in the decision to do that, but I felt the exact same way when they shared that news. Obviously, Paisley Park is the birthplace of so much. For this creative genius to come from that city—it’s such a cool tribute to start there. It speaks, again, to the authenticity. This wasn’t a fly-by-night thing, like, “Let’s throw this together and see what happens.” It’s been a long time in the making, where they’ve taken careful consideration for how to get it right. When I saw Prince at The Fillmore in San Francisco, he played a show earlier in the night at one of the bigger stadiums. But the whisper on the street was that he’d show up at the Fillmore for a bit of an after-show. This kind of feels like that.

Purple healing rain

This is such a divided time in our country. Do you think there’s anything particularly relevant about the musical being staged now? Prince is that rare artist who appeals to a wide swath of people: classic-rock people, pop fans, funk lovers…Who better than Prince to speak to us?

Just speaking as a Prince fan and an interested party, I absolutely agree with you on multiple levels. During the pandemic, we were isolated, and now things have thawed out, and we’re going to see live music and sporting events again. But I was talking to someone who was recently at an L.A. Dodgers game. They said, “I was sitting in the cheap seats, and with the guy sitting next to me, there was zero doubt that we were on opposite ends of the political spectrum that is such a strong current in today’s culture, but we were both diehard Dodgers fans. There’s a home run, we’re standing up and high-fiving. I ordered a beer, and he passed it to me. We’re laughing and engaging.” I think Prince is a great example of [someone] who brings people together. There are so many people [for whom] Prince conjures up memories: “When I was at my high school homecoming, we slow-danced to ‘Purple Rain.’ That was my first love.” It kind of transcends a lot of these lines today that are super divisive. I think that’s a really interesting piece. I think the other is that Prince was actually quite a philanthropist and did so mostly anonymously—he gave money to organizations and to people, and a lot of it I didn’t learn about until after his passing. The more we can find events like a show or some type of entertainment to break down some of those divides, it’s a good thing. And Prince is unique in that sense because he ties back to nostalgia from when a lot of us were growing up.

Let’s end with this: What’s your favorite Prince song and album? I understand if you feel like you have to say Purple Rain and “Purple Rain.”

My favorite song is “The Beautiful Ones”—I just love that song so much. I can’t pick a favorite album. It’s hard not to go with Purple Rain, just because it’s what kicked things off, circling back to the beginning of our conversation. Just that indelible memory of being at the beach and my older cousins popping in that cassette—it really changed my life in a way. But I love Diamonds and Pearls, even a lot of the more recent music. It’s hard to pick a favorite album, but I would say, for non-music-related reasons, I’ve got to go with Purple Rain.

  • Italian man claims to be ‘human cheetah’ with lightning-fast reflexes
    Photo credit: CanvaA man with fast reflexes.

    At first glance, this probably looks like a camera trick. Ken Lee, an Italian content creator, has built a massive online following by doing something that doesn’t quite feel real. Viewers refer to him as the “human cheetah” because it appears he has near-instant reflexes.

    Grabbing objects out of the air with uncanny precision, flicking clothespins and lighters, and throwing a blur of punches and kicks at impossible speeds, it is easy to call him unbelievable. Half the audience thinks his viral speed videos are fake. The other half is just as convinced they are watching something incredibly rare.

    Hands so fast they blur time

    In the video above, a timer runs to confirm its authenticity. In what looks like half a second, he reaches out and snags the lighter from the table. To prove it is real, he does it twice.

    Having amassed millions of followers on his TikTok page, the identity behind the mysterious influencer remains largely unknown. Active since around 2022, with almost 100 million accumulated likes, Lee has cultivated a fandom around his self-proclaimed “Superhero per Hobby!”

    Do you believe it is real? Is this person the fastest human alive? Many followers cannot wait for the next video to be posted. Plenty of his fervent fans are Italian, so sifting through the remarks takes a bit of hunting. Here are some comments that sum up how much people enjoy the fun and the spectacle:

    “Ken lee the fastest and the best”

    “Most dangerous human”

    “Is this what the lighter sees before my homie steals it”

    “It was sped up during he grabbed the lighter, if u count up with the timer u would be off by like 0,5 seconds whenever he grabs the lighter.”

    “If the flash were human”

    “How is it possible to get such powers ?”

    “I blinked and I missed it”

    People love good entertainment

    The awe of peak performance attracts people to watch elite athletes, musicians, or even dancers. There is something that deeply satisfies all of us when a human appears to push a skill to its limit. Whether it is real or fake seems to matter less than the opportunity to chime in on some good entertainment.

    How far could any of us go by practicing and repeating a particular motion over and over until it is mastered? Beneath the flashy nickname and his viral speed videos, Lee’s content has a way of drawing people in. This is not a superpower. Just repetition. Focus. Obsession. And maybe some digital wizardry.

    Testing the science of speed

    If you wish to question the validity of Lee’s performances, maybe some basic science can help. Human reaction time is not just a reflex. A 2024 study found that the nervous system can fine-tune responses in real time. Practice can make movements appear almost automatic.

    It has been well established in research that the gap between seeing something and responding has a limit. A 2025 study concluded that the most elite extremes allow for reaction times of 100 milliseconds. At that speed, the human brain can barely process that something has happened.

    Science explains Lee is not necessarily moving as fast as we might perceive him to be. And therein lies all the fun of it. We cannot prove it is real, nor can we actually prove that it is fake.

    Maybe Lee is the “fastest man alive” or the so-called “human cheetah.” Or maybe he is just a remarkable entertainer. Either way, he has clearly tapped into something strange and fascinating: a blend of human ability and fantasy that people do not want to miss.

    To give context to Lee’s videos, watch this performance on Tú Sí Que Vales:

  • Despite all the likes, literallys and dropped g’s, English isn’t decaying before our eyes
    Photo credit: LisaStrachan/iStock via Getty Images Fear not: There isn’t anything that needs saving.

    As a linguistics professor, I’m often asked why English is decaying before our eyes, whether it’s “like” being used promiscuouslyt’s being dropped deleteriously or “literally” being deployed nonliterally.

    While these common gripes point to eccentric speech patterns, they don’t point to grammatical annihilation. English has weathered far worse.

    Let’s start with something we can all agree on: Old English, spoken from approximately A.D. 450 to 1100, is pretty unintelligible to us today. Anyone who’s had the pleasure of reading “Beowulf” in high school knows how different English back then used to sound. Word endings did a lot more grammatical work, and verbs followed more complicated patterns. Remnants of those rules fuel lingering debates today, such as when to use “whom” over “who,” and whether the past tense of “sneak” is “snuck” or “sneaked.”

    The language went on to experience centuries of tumult: Viking invasions, which introduced Old Norse influence; Anglo-Norman French rule, which shifted the language of the elite to French; and 18th-Century grammarians, who dictated norms with their elocution and grammar guides.

    In that time, English has lost almost all of the more complex linguistic trappings it was born with to become the language we know and – at least, sometimes – love today. And as I explain in my new book, “Why We Talk Funny: The Real Story Behind Our Accents,” it was all thanks to the way that language naturally evolves to meet the social needs of its speakers.

    From dropping the ‘l’ to dropping the ‘g’

    The things we tend to label as “bad” or sloppy English – for instance, the “g” that gets lost from our -ing endings or the deletion of a “t” when we say a word like “innernet” – actually reflect speech habits that are centuries old.

    Take, for example, “often.” Originally spoken with the “t,” that pronunciation gradually became less favored around the 15th century, alongside that “l” in “talk” and the “k” in know. Meanwhile, the “s” now stuck on the back of verbs like “does” and “makes” began as a dialectal variant that only became popular in 16th-century London. It gradually replaced “th” whenever third persons were involved, as in “The lady doth protest too much.”

    While dropping the “l” in talk may have been initially frowned upon, today it would be strange if you pronounced the letter. And the shift makes sense: It smoothed out some linguistic awkwardness for the sake of efficiency.

    If people learned to look at language more like linguists, they might come around to seeing that there is more than one perspective on what good speech consists of.

    And yes, that absolutely is a sentence ending with a preposition – something many modern grammar guides discourage, even though the idea only took hold after 18th-century grammarian Robert Lowth intimated it was a less elegant choice based on the model of Latin.

    Though Lowth voiced no hard and fast rule against it, many a grammar maven later misconstrued his advice as an admonition. Just like that, a mere suggestion became grammatical law.

    The rise of the grammar sticklers

    Many of today’s ideas about what constitutes correct English are based on a singular – often mistaken – 19th-century view of the forces that govern our language.

    In the late 18th century, the English-speaking world began experiencing class restructuring and higher literacy rates. As greater class mobility became possible, accent differences became class markers that separated new money from old money.

    Emulation of upper-crust speech norms became popular among the nouveau riche. With literacy also on the rise, grammarians and elocutionists raced to dictate the terms of “proper” English on and off the page, which led to the rise of usage guides and dictionaries that were eager to sell a certain brand of speech.

    Another example of grammarian angst reconfiguring the view of an otherwise perfectly fine form is the droppin’ of the “g.” It became so tied to slovenly speech that it was branded with an apostrophe in the 19th century to make sure no one missed its lackadaisical and nonstandard nature.

    Up until the 19th century, however, no one seemed to care whether one pronounced it as “-in” or “-ing.”

    Evidence suggests that -ing wasn’t even heard as the correct form. Many elocution guides from the 18th century provide rhyming word pairs like “herring/heron,” “coughing/coffin” and “jerking/jerkin,” which suggest that “-in” may have been the preferred pronunciation of words ending with “-ing.” Even writer and satirist Jonathan Swift – a frequent lobbyist for “proper” English – rhymes “brewing” with “ruin” in his 1731 poem “Verses on the Death of Dr. Swift, D.S.P.D..”

    Embrace the change

    Language has always shifted and evolved. People often bristle at changes from what they’ve known to what is new. And maybe that’s because this process often begins with speakers that society usually looks less favorably on: the young, the female, the poor, the nonwhite.

    But it’s important to remember that being disliked and bad are not the same thing – that today’s speech pariahs are driven by the same linguistic and social needs as the Londoners who started going with “does” instead of “doth” or dropped the “t” in often.

    So if you think the speech that comes from your lips is the “correct” version, think again. Thou, like every other English speaker, art literally the product of centuries of linguistic reinvention.

    This article originally appeared on The Conversation. You can read it here.

  • 10 boys and 10 girls were left alone in separate houses and the different results are just wild
    Photo credit: Ian Taylor PhotographerTwo young children play in the grass.

    It sounds like the plot of William Golding’s Lord of the Flies. However, in the mid-2000s, it was a very real and very controversial reality television experiment.

    Footage from the UK Channel 4 documentary Boys and Girls Alone is captivating audiences all over again. It offers a fascinating and chaotic look at what happens when you remove parents from the equation.

    The premise was simple but high stakes. Twenty children, aged 11 and 12, were split into two groups by gender. Ten boys and ten girls were placed in separate houses and told to live without adult supervision for five days.

    The Setup

    While there were safety nets in place, the day-to-day living was entirely up to the kids. A camera crew was present but instructed not to intervene unless safety was at risk. The children could also ring a bell to speak to a nurse or psychiatrist.

    The houses were fully stocked with food, cleaning supplies, toys, and paints. Everything they needed to survive was there. They just had to figure out how to use it.

    The Boys: Instant Chaos

    In the boys’ house, the unraveling was almost immediate. The newfound freedom triggered a rapid descent into high-energy anarchy.

    They engaged in water pistol fights and threw cushions. In one memorable instance, a boy named Michael covered the carpet in sticky popcorn kernels just because he could.

    The destruction eventually escalated to the walls. The boys covered the house in writing, drawing, and paint. But the euphoria of freedom eventually crashed into the reality of consequences.

    “We never expected to be like this, but I’m really upset that we trashed it so badly,” one boy admitted in the footage. “We were trying to explore everything at once and got too carried away in ourselves.”

    Their attempts to clean up were frantic and largely ineffective. Nutrition also took a hit. Despite having completed a cooking course, the boys survived mostly on cereal, sugar, and the occasional frozen pizza. By the end of the week, the house was trashed, and the group had fractured into opposing factions.

    The Girls: Organized Society

    The girls’ house looked like a different planet.

    In stark contrast to the mayhem next door, the girls immediately established a functioning society. They organized a cooking roster, with a girl named Sherry preparing their first meal. They baked cakes. They put on a fashion show. They even drew up a scrupulous chores list to ensure the house stayed livable.

    While their stay wasn’t devoid of interpersonal drama, the experiment highlighted a fascinating divergence in socialization. Left to their own devices, the girls prioritized community and maintenance. The boys tested the absolute limits of their environment until it broke.

    The documentary was controversial when it aired, with critics questioning the ethics of placing children in unsupervised situations for entertainment. But what made it so enduring, and why footage keeps resurfacing years later, is what it reveals about how kids are socialized long before anyone puts them in a house together. The boys weren’t born anarchists and the girls weren’t born organizers. They arrived at those houses already shaped by years of being told, implicitly and explicitly, what boys do and what girls do. Whether that’s a nature story or a nurture story is the question the documentary keeps asking without quite answering, which is probably why people are still watching and arguing about it nearly two decades later.

    This article originally appeared two years ago. It has been updated.

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