Well, the 2016 Grammys came and thankfully went, giving us yet another year to not care about the Grammys. Tori Kelly's resting bitch face (above) perfectly surmises how most people feel about "music's biggest night." It's just three-and-a-half hours of Taylor Swift ass-kissing, barely sober presenters, questionable fashion and mediocre performances peppered in with some decent and even great ones—looking at you cast of Hamilton.
Lady Gaga teamed up with Intel, as we were reminded time and time again, for a tribute to David Bowie that was more Broadway than rock & roll, as Gaga's theatrics usually are.
But the performance is worth it for this deathdrop alone.
Kendrick Lamar, however, delivered the performance of the night—a high-octane, impassioned commentary on police violence and race that was the blackest thing CBS has aired since the '80s.
I mean, just look at how terrified and confused these white people are who just minutes before were jamming out to some Lionel Richie.
But even Adele—who was a bit off her game, but it's Adele so she gets a pass—gave Kendrick his tens.
But he predictably lost Album of the Year to Taylor Swift, who upon winning delivered the shade of the night.
That was directed at one Kanye West who, years after generously contributing to the black hole that is Taylor Swfit's increasing fame, took all the credit on his latest album. Meanwhile, Kanye's begging for money on the internet and she's the first woman to win two Album of the Year Grammys. I guess we know who won.
Speaking of which—the winner of life as we know it (and zero Album of the Year Grammys)—Beyoncé floated down to these basics wearing a subtle earring—
—to vaguely address the "Formation" "controversy" in some prepared speech on the value of art and to deliver the Record of the Year to "Uptown Funk." Bruno Mars was a little too turnt up. Bey was not having it.
And then the 58th Grammys closed on a logical and classy note: Pitbull. Now we're free for another year. In the name of the father, the son and the Taylor Swift.