Days go by. The economic climate changes. And now the Queen of hiphop is repping the arctic.
Yes, Latifah is the narrator of Arctic Tale. So sad, so sad.

(ht yardlie)

And bizarrely impassioned Vampire Weekend hate in 3...2...1...

Under the Radar unleashes 2008’s "Protest Issue", using the time-honored connection between politics and music to promote political dialogue and awareness. The Protest Issue features two alternating collectable covers: one with R.E.M.’s Michael Stipe and Modest Mouse’s Isaac Brock, the other with Death Cab for Cutie’s Chris Walla, The Decembrists’ Colin Meloy, and Spoon’s Britt Daniel.

Don't see it yet? How about now?

Notice any similarities between their cover models? Like, maybe how they are all white men?

I guess no one protested the lack of diversity in print media for the issue, so I'm taking up the cause. If you are going to go through the trouble of having two collectible covers, couldn't you at least put Chuck D or Beth Ditto on there or someone? There's plenty of room! A little tokenism would even be better than nothing.

Today, GalleyCat reports that Madonna's brother is writing a memoir about...being Madonna's brother. I'm going to say right now that if they didn't have sex, there's no point to this goddamned book.

The only thing more impressive than Isaac Hayes’ gold-plated El Dorado Cadillac inside The Stax Museum of American Soul Music is an entire authentic, 100-year old Mississippi Delta church. Relocated to the site when it was built around 2001, the church’s front doorway serves as the museum entrance after you leave an introductory film about the label's history. You literally have to walk down the aisle between the aged, wooden pews and “pay your respects” to the roots of Memphis soul as admission to the rest of the exhibits.

I visited the movie theater turned recording studio turned museum/music academy on McLemore Avenue in south Memphis when I traveled down to the capital of the mid-south a few years back. It’s both a dazzling distraction amidst the rough neighborhood that it’s still hoping to revitalize and a first-rate tourist mecca for pilgrims of the Memphis sound. Once unaware, the museum definitely opened the eyes (and ears) of this ignoramus to realize there was more to Booker T. & the M.G.’s than “Green Onions”.

Starting this Sunday and running thru Thursday, the Northwest Film Forum is screening Respect Yourself: The Stax Record Story and Wattstax - the former, a documentary chock-full of archival material put together to mark the 50th Anniversary of the label and the latter, a documentary of the 1972 Stax label memorial concert for the Watts riots, re-released for 35th Anniversary screenings.

3. Lil Wayne ft. Static Major, "Lollipop" (Cash Money)
Alex: Oh god.
Lorie: [The Supremes'] "Reflections"—that's what [the beginning] reminds me of.
Alex: "Apple bottom jeans, boots with the fur": I know this song. I don't like this, though. Oh! It's the wrong song. I'm thinking of "Low" [by Flo Rida ft. T-Pain].
Brittany: Is this Lil Wayne?! "Cash Money Records reppin' for the nine-nine and the 2000!" I like Mannie Fresh better. He was a lot funnier to listen to. What's that song, "Get Your Roll On"? Lil Wayne was like 12 years old when Cash Money Records came out—that's what I always think about when I hear him. He was like 12 years old with a kid, and his lonely teardrop.
Lorie: A kid? Wow! I've been outdone!
Brittany: Yeah—nobody thought it was biologically possible, but it's been done, Mom.
Lorie: You know what this reminds me of? Rap.
Alex, Brittany, Michael: It is rap.
Brittany: It's more like a distant relative of rap. What kind of rap did you listen to, Mom, the Sugarhill Gang?
Lorie: No, I listened to that Superman song.
Michael: You mean "Rapper's Delight"?
Lorie: Yes!
Brittany: That's the Sugarhill Gang.
Lorie: Oh.
Michael: Wait—do you mean the song about Superman and Lois Lane, or the one about Supermanning that ho?
Lorie: [confused look]
Michael: OK, never mind.

P.S. Santogold!

I immediately said no. Actually I think I said:

Fuck, no! Iron Man! Iron Man!

It occurs to me that, in that split second before hitting the 'reply' button and writing my response, I did all kinds of calculus in my head: I pitted my love of Martin Scorsese's films against my hatred of what the Rolling Stones have become. My Stones hatred overwhelmed my love of Scorsese. And I also pushed my hatred of what the Rolling Stones have become against my love of friends who I haven't seen in a month or so. My hatred of the Rolling Stones, again, completely defeated my love of friends. And, by pitting my hatred of what the Rolling Stones have become in direct competition with Iron Man, I have categorically proven that I love Iron man more than the Stones.

In fact, I can't think of any scenario that would get me into that theater. If, somehow, an imaginary threat like "See the Rolling Stones movie or these six random children would die of cancer" were made real, I would of course see the documentary, because while I may be a jackass at times, I am not a monster. But I would hate every minute of the movie.

So it occurred to me today that I should write a note to my friend thanking him for finally giving me a definitive method for expressing my hatred of what the Rolling Stones have become: I don't hate them quite enough to kill, but no reasonable incentive would ever get me to see one of their performances.

For a solid hour on Tuesday afternoon, I basically should've gotten fired from my job. This is not because I was drinking in the office again or harassing my (sorta) co-worker Heidi Montag or even stealing boxes from the supply closet to complete my awesome fort (that was Monday).

No, it was because I was furiously Googling photos of Miley Cyrus in her bra.

OK, now before Human Resources contacts me (or my wife leaves me), please know that I was doing said Googling for a story I was working on — a follow-up to a 300-word blurb we ran on Monday that was read by 71,000 people (!) in less than 24 hours. (By comparison, last week's Bigger Than the Sound is currently sitting at just more than 2,400 clicks.) Please know that I am not some sort of crazy pervert and that — to borrow perhaps the most overused excuse of all time — I was just doing my job (honest).

I'm not exactly sure what the rest of you were doing, though. Because for most of Tuesday, "Miley Cyrus Bra" was the most-searched term on Google, ahead of "Pennsylvania Exit Polls," "Kijana Carter" and "Earth Day." Phrases like "Racy Miley Cyrus Photos" and "Miley Cyrus Underwear Pictures" also logged time in Google Trends' Top 100, as did pretty much any possible combination of the words "leaked," "pics" and "Net" you could think of (also, nice to see "Vanessa Hudgens Pics" making a comeback).

Basically, for an entire day, people were more interested in seeking out semi-nude — and possibly fake? — photos of a 15-year-old pop star than they were in reading about the death of soul singer Al Wilson (which is sad), potential Jeep Liberty recalls (which is terrifying) and "Alligator in Kitchen" (which is puzzling). And while all of that should probably make me want to curl up and die — or at least weep for the state of humanity — it doesn't. Because this has basically become my entire life.

Read the funny, thoughtful, sad but true article here.