August's Most Average Moments

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Lady Gaga Nude

For our annual Impose team building summer retreat we pony'ed up Lady Gaga-money to have Marina Abramovic employ her Method on our tired souls. That's right, our Labor Day weekend was spent in the wilderness, next to a babbling brook, naked and howling, while clutching giant crystals. And it worked!

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Miley Cyrus could kick down our office door, backed by a posse of plushies, and start twerkin' in our workspace and we'd hardly flinch in appall. Our Eh… column was losing its indifferent voice and slipping into “I'll fucking burn a celebrity portrait in effigy” territory. But after a weekend of imitating a howler monkey, while a mountain breeze passes through our loins, we've learned to stop letting the hype beast claw at us. We're playing patty-cake with it these days.

So in September we return to you, in matching Versace pants, with renewed spirits and a brighter outlook on August's low points in culture. Sort of.

Macklemore is gay. Deal with it.

It looks as though Macklemore is out to rub it in Le1f's face with each award and tv appearance. He won an VMA for "Same Love", because a straight white man of privilege rapping about gay love takes courage, then appeared on Chelsea Lately with producer Ryan Lewis to courageously make a joke of coming out of the closet since the Internet thinks he's gay.

This seems like a simple misunderstanding of varying definitions. The Internet is not making assumptions about his orientation, it knows he has a fiancee. The Internet thinks he's gay like how inarticulate teenagers used it in the 90s to insult people who they deem idiotic.

Matt & Kim get naked again.

We're old enough to remember the first time Matt & Kim went NSFW in the '09 video for "Lessons Learned". They dropped trough again for an upcoming remix record entitled Lightning Remixes. How neither of them aged in the four years since we last saw them in the buff is beyond our understanding and defies science.

Maybe that's the point of this Eve & Adam artwork? We'll accept any theory that doesn't belittle nudity to publicity stunt.

Oh joy, Taco Bell made a Passion Pit documentary

Sam Jones made one exceptional documentary, I Am Trying To Break Your Heart: A Film About Wilco, and then disappeared from the planet like some rock doc J.D. Salinger. That is, until he broke the silence with an equally important documentary funded by Taco Bell about Passion Pit and Wildcat! Wildcat!'s SXSW experiences at the Taco Bell Feed The Beat showcase. Entitled Hello Everywhere, it combines the agony of SXSW interviews and b-roll with the stomach spoils of "Mexican" delicacies with names like gorditas that no other Mexican restaurant nor family recipe has ever used. Basically just like musicians like Passion Pit invent song titles, Taco Bell invents clever names for its food (see also, your diarrhea).

Fiona Apple hates bags; us too.

At an industry event for high-end clothing and bag manufacturer Louis Vuitton, Fiona Apple lost a little piece of her ailing mind when she couldn't get the Chatty Cathy crowd to pipe the fuck down during her set. After railing at the audience to no avail, Apple stormed off the stage yelling something about "predictable fashion." Not sure what about this makes the least sense. Apple performing at a bag event? Apple storming off-stage yelling about predictability in an industry that literally exists on that very platform? Or the fact that every news outlet that has written about it shyly word-bleeps the full f-word? It's hard to tell.

But here we are, talking about some Kanye West-level mania coming from an LV bag event. Moral of the story is: bags suck.

Robin Thicke's ongoing controversy

Suing the estate of an r&b legend; benefactor of a Miley twerk session, galavanting with topless women in the most popular music video of the moment, and placing his wedding band hand on the rumps of debutantes on Instagram- all signs point to a young man who's lost his way.

What Robin Thicke needs for these growing pains is a father figure who dabbles in psychiatry and stay-at-home-daddying.

Death Grips show up to FYF Fest.

Wow. Great job. So proud.

There was an awards show.

Oh, hi. Welcome to the world wide web. Is this your first time here? Allow us to settle you in and show you around. To your left you'll find a handful of websites talking about the definition of "twerking," whereas to your right, you'll find some blogs expressing discontent for the awards show dress of a no-longer-teenage popstar. If you look really closely into the far distance, you might catch a Twitter joke about the symbiosis between the stone-age VMAs and their taking place in Brooklyn, but you might actually just run into a character from GIRLS talking loudly and rather rudely about stale scones or cronuts or whatever happens in Brooklyn these days. Don't know who Molly Cyrus is? Don't care how thick Robin Thicke's dong is? Did you only watch the VMAs because you thought you'd catch the hype machine at its lowest? Welcome. You'll fit right in.

Eh… to every "Control" response track

If Kendrick did not name you in his verse, you've got to look deep within yourself and ask the question, "is this the right career for me?"

Keep calm and remember, "don't be mad, UPS is hiring".

Dan Auerbach and Jack White form ultra-blues-rock guitar band called The Black Stripes.

Let's rewrite this nasty old beef script. Sure, both dads are having sticky custody battles and divorce proceedings, but that doesn't mean we can't put our own fictionalized bow on the whole shebang. Let's just imagine a world where Auerbach and White are actually getting along and not including each other in their simultaneous divorce cases, and instead decided to form the most blues-rock dad-band of all time and call it—get this—THE BLACK STRIPES. Or maybe THE WHITE KEYS. It doesn't matter. They put out several vintage-analog records on Third Man Records, pressed to limited edition, urine-colored vinyl, and then someone—a judge, a pastor, who cares?—puts both of them on a raft and pushes them out to sea. With all 30,000 shrinkwrapped vinyl. Never to be heard from again.

End scene.

Whole Foods breaks into the coveted indie rock music market.

As we reported in August, Whole Foods, the super organic retail food market, have begun selling a limited number of vinyl at five California stores. Whether you've been really looking for a place to simultaneously buy Arcade Fire records and local cheeses, the decision has already been made and the analog resurgence has started rolling out. Don't be alarmed when cassettes start showing up near a basket of fresh-picked figs by the register.

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