Last week, we all threw several black lace mourning veils over our faces to mourn the death of every member of The Supremes, Gladys Knight, Stevie Wonder, Smokey Robinson, and literally every singer not named Jennifer Lopez, because that was the only explanation for why the Grammy people chose JLo to headline their tribute to Motown. I thought that maybe after the Grammys were hit with a million and one side-eyes for that decision, they’d make the right decision by replacing her with a hastily-made Marvin Gaye hologram or even Rancho Cucamonga’s third most popular The Temptations tribute group performing to a track blasting out of an iPhone 5. Even Diana Ross’ grandson and fucking Jaden Smith did a better tribute to Motown and it wasn’t even a tribute to Motown.
But the Grammys went through with it and JLo delivered the kind of Motown “tribute” you’d see at 2:30 in the afternoon on a Tuesday at a 2-star casino motel outside of Laughlin, NV. They should’ve went all the way with that vibe by putting a stale potato bar on the stage, along with a chain-smoking gambling addict who’d yell at JLo, doing double duty as his cocktail waitress, to get his G&T already.
After Aretha Franklin’s eight-hour-long funeral service yesterday, I assumed that the post-funeral highlights would be a plethora of Bill Clinton oogling Ariana Grande memes, but the real take away is nowhere near as fun as that. Bishop Charles H. Ellis III, who officiated the service in Detroit, is catching some serious heat for his groping of Ariana at the podium and joking about her name being a Taco Bell item, and has been forced to issued an apology.