Coachella? Never heard of her. Essence Fest, step aside. The biggest and baddest music festival of the decade will be held in next Friday in Detroit, and you’d have to beg, steal, or slap on a wig and borrow somebody else’s identity, if you wanted to attend. Aretha Franklin’s homegoing celebration is scheduled for August 31, and the lineup of artists slated to perform includes Stevie Wonder, Chaka Khan, Jennifer Holliday, Jennifer Hudson, Fantasia, and a slew of other superstars from the gospel, classical, R&B worlds.
When you’re a question mark’s favorite pop singer and people regularly mistake you for the wall, you have to pull some shit to make people pay attention to you. Like dress yourself up as a Miss Kitty from the future who just got jumped by a gang of silkie chickens.
Clive Davis threw his annual pre-Grammy party in NYC last night, and many of the guests decided to save their better dresses for tonight’s Grammys (although, they should really just wear pajamas with an attached pillow and duvet cover, because that shit is going to be three and a half fucking hours long). Because most of them wore boring dresses bought off the rack at Macy’s (Taryn Manning’s impact!), but not Rita Ora.
Rita Ora threw feathers, fringe, bows, rhinestone and whatever else that was on sale at Michael’s onto her body. Rita looks like she just came from auditioning for the Thandie Newton role in a no-budget unauthorized Public Access reboot of Westworld that takes place way off in the future and will eventually get shut down after HBO sues. Rita is also dressed like a look-for-less Kartrashian, which is saying a lot since the Kartrashians dress like look-for-less Kartrashians.
And here’s a million more pictures from Clive Davis’ party, including Kathie Lee Gifford (who I hope wins, via write-in vote, the Best Song Grammy tonight for He Saw Jesus) and Martha Stewart, whose dogs are probably nervous that she’s going to skin and wear their asses next.
On Wednesday’s episode of the broke down version of The View known as The Talk, the hosts brought up the rumors that Janet Jackson and Paris Jackson got into a slap slap slappity fight right there on the driveway of Katherine Jackson’s house. Paris Jackson already denied that hands went flying, but the hosts of The Talk still brought it up. The show’s guest Gladys Knight made it clear that if Paris Jackson served her some lip, that little girl would be on the next Midnight Train to Whoop Ass. They’d have to call in an ambulance, a dentist, an orthodontist, a denture maker and a professional who specializes in gum transplants, because Paris Jackson would be picking her teefs up from off the ground. Gladys explained herself like this:
“It’s drama, that’s what it is. If you lived up under the microscope as this family does, everybody has dysfunctionality in their families, either one way or the other. See, I’m from the south and was raised in that southern way. You have to understand Paris is what, 14? How old is Janet? Who’s the one who tries to direct the other one here? And I would think that it’s a good thing she lets Paris know who she is. She is a Jackson, she shouldn’t be putting the business out there like that. Cause people read into whatever they want to read into, that’s how they get the drama. So, she’s just trying to protect her, in a way. But if she called me that, she wouldn’t have any teeth…You respect your elders.”
That raspy whistling sound you hear is Joe Jackson swooning through his gross bull dog nostrils over Gladys’ words. As soon as he composes himself, I’m sure he’ll say, “An ass whooper after my own heart.” If this is Gladys’ way of trying to get Joe Jackson to ask her out on a romantic date where they’ll pick out switches together, it’s totally going to work.
Here’s the video of Gladys saying it: