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His parents split up when he was a toddler. His mom later remarried a Jewish man, which led to young, previously unreligious Jacob studying at Temple Israel in Uptown and even nearly having a bar mitzvah. He also spent part of his childhood living at his stepdad’s place in posh Linden Hills, in addition to the rougher Powderhorn neighborhood. (Speculation that Prof is actually a rich kid who faked a poor upbringing for his rapper persona is unfounded; welfare was a reality for his family for many years.)
Nowadays, Prof’s mom might be his toughest critic.
“She said, ‘You really say a lot of horrible stuff in your songs,’ ” he recalled. “She had trouble realizing what it was all for.”
While he partially shuns the tag “comedic rapper” — “I don’t want to be seen as the Al Yankovic of rap” — he did point to comedians to explain his approach.
“Comedians can say a lot of really [messed]-up stuff,” he said. “As long as it’s funny, they can get away with it. For me, as long as it’s either funny or justifiable in even the most obscure way, I want to be able to always say whatever I want.”
After the massage Prof was, not surprisingly, speechless: “I want to nap for about three days,” he said. And for once, it didn’t sound like he was kidding.
Chris Riemenschneider • 612-673-4658 • Twitter: @ChrisRstrib