Bono’s Blog

So the Spice Girls are having a reunion tour. I guess they got them all together again. Even the Sporty one, and no one even remembers her.

Have you noticed that U2 has never had a reunion tour? Now, why is that? Oh yeah, you don’t need to have a reunion when you’ve been together for 31 YEARS!

I think that most bands break-up because members want to peruse solo careers. Not U2. The other band members know that they would be NOTHING without me. Well, maybe The Edge. But not those other two. What are their names? The guy on drums looks like Kenickie from Grease. And the other guy… let’s just say that if we had nicknames, he would be Grey-Haired-Can’t-Keep-A-Chick Spice.

Fans, you may ask yourself, “why doesn’t Bono start his own solo career?” That is an excellent question. The truth is, my dedication to charity extends beyond the scope of Africa, encompassing the sad Brits that play back up as well. If I left them, they would end up as talking heads on VH1’s Behind the Music and contestants on Dancing with the Stars. Plus, that Kenickie guy gives phenomenal back massages.

Photo by atomicjeep

Have you heard about the female shark that impregnated itself? So this blacktip reef shark had no lover, no special someone to call her own, and she gets pregnant anyway. The world is truly a mysterious and beautiful place. But I have to admit, this has thrown me for a loop.

A lot of my songwriting comes from a special place between “A Man and a Woman” (as the song says). If mammals are going to start procreating solo, where does that leave my music? I’m no zoologist, but if our women won’t need us anymore, than they won’t need love songs, right? What will be the point of pop music at all? I can only write “Baby You Don’t Need Me, But I Still Need You” so many different ways.

Photo by richard ling

People ask me all the time how I can identify with the Third World poor given my extraordinary wealth. Does this answer your question?

From Free Market News Network (6/26/07):

“You have to understand,” Bono replied to the journalist, “that in these people’s eyes there is no difference between you and me.”

“You haven’t seen my salary,” the interviewer responded with a laugh.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Bono. “You have a roof over your head. Three squares a day. Clean drinking water. A doctor who sees you when you’re sick. In the eyes of these people, you have everything.”

Don’t think about my partnership in Forbes Media-owning private equity firms. Or that people give me free penthouses. In the eyes of a poor African child, I’m just Bono.

As you probably know, years back, in the late 90s, I became highly involved in raising both money and awareness for what was then a little known autoimmune virus. AIDS was an epidemic which plagued millions of people in Africa, and in my effort to bring an end to this fatal ailment, I am ready to accept that I failed. Mission not accomplished. Eight years after I began my endeavor to end AIDS, the deadly disease still exists. Perhaps I should have devoted more time, raised more money, not done the Western Europe ’02 tour. I really thought I could rid the world of this thing in like 6 years tops.

So where does this leave me? As of today, June 26, 2007, I hereby announce I will refocus my AIDS energy to another disease, one which affects even more millions of individuals each year: mononucleosis. The 2007 “Bono for Mono” campaign will raise awareness about this frightening illness. Thousands of suburban teenagers agonize over the fatigue-inducing virus each year and something needs to be done. Headaches, tiredness, dry coughing, and loss of appetite are some, actually, almost all (I left out skin rash, but that happens in very few cases) of the symptoms which accompany mono.

I experienced the devastation of mononucleosis first hand when former United States’ Secretary of Housing and Urban Development, Jack Kemp (really the only politician who would agree to go with me) joined me for a visit to the Roslyn, NY home of mono patient Brett Stein. Brett was groggier than any teenager I’ve ever met. When he reached for three more Advil to alleviate his headache, he said something Jack and I will remember for a lifetime, “This fucking sucks. Jill Rothberg’s parents are going away this weekend, and there’s no way my mom is letting me out of the house to go there.” Fourteen days later Brett was back in school, testing negative for the virus. I can’t help but think we made a difference.

Photo by euthman

My wife Ali launched an exploited-labor free clothing line in Florence last week called Edun.

“Edun is not a charity. It’s a project for social development aimed primarily at Africa,” said Hewson. She said the company teaches suppliers how to grow raw materials and shows workers how to use the cloth weaving machines. Edun clothes are produced in India, Peru, Tunisia, Kenya, Uganda, Lesotho, Mauritius and Madagascar.

This clothing line is important for a couple reasons. Firstly, casual U2 fans mistakenly believe that my sexuality transcends concrete mammalian male-female, male-male, rock star-fish boundaries — that my divine and ubiquitous libido hovers in the stratosphere, germinates the flora in the fields — that my seed somehow is the “One” force that allows life, blood and love to carry on.

Well as it turns out, I do have a mortal wife (we met before U2 formed). So it’s silly to suggest that I promulgate the above holy status, or that I shrug my shoulders and grin mysteriously when asked if Ali is my sister.

Secondly, purchasing sweatshop-free clothing is sort of like eating a glutton-free diet — an obvious and consciously-sound choice. (Except while you healthily deprive your body of wheat, rye, barley and oats, no one in Africa is really benefiting). My friend wife is spot on with this program that will establish sustainable industry in these developing nations. I’m reminded of an adage: If you give a man some fish, he’ll eat for a day, but if you teach him how to fish, he’ll eventually learn how to deplete a bountiful resource and cause horrific environmental consequences.

Cheers!

Photo by medapt.org

Sonic Youth gets a celebrity comp at Starbucks? Last I checked, I was in the Biggest Band in the World (still U2 baby, not those other guys). Apparently taking two steps 20 steps backward is the way into the latte crowd’s hearts.

What would a U2 celebrity comp look like? I’ve got probably the only cell phone in the world with both David Bowie’s and Benjamin Netanyahu’s numbers, so you know it’ll be pure rock ‘n roll.

1. “Sunday Bloody Sunday” (Chosen by Mahmoud Ahmadinejad)
2. “I Will Follow” (Chosen by Condoleeza Rice)
3. “In God’s Country” (Chosen by George W. Bush)
4. “Even Better than the Real Thing” (Chosen by Steven Spielberg)
5. “Numb” (Chosen by Thom Yorke)
6. “Tryin’ to Throw Your Arms Around the World” (Chosen by Bill Gates)
7. “Vertigo” (Chosen by Kate Moss)
8. “Eye of the Tiger” (Chosen by Lindsey Lohan - I don’t think she knows we didn’t write that song, but we’ll cover it because she’s a sweet girl.)
9. “With or Without You” (Chosen by Scooter Libby)
10. “Fuck You, Anarchist” (Okay, this wasn’t a song choice, it’s what Bill O’Reilly emailed back to me. We’ll just assume he wanted “Beautiful Day”.)
11. “Bad” (Chosen by Samuel L. Jackson)
12. Thirteen minutes of feedback and Kim Gordon humming (Chosen by Thurston Moore - he’s still a nice guy)

Photo by Stig Nygaard

Dear Rupert:

Bitchin’ beach party. You were right, next to alligator wrestling, body surfing is the ultimate extreme sport. Now that things are looking up for you buying the Wall Street Journal, I’d like to nominate myself as the new editor. I’ve got plenty of experience and big plans.

1. Make it glossy. If the brass won’t let me turn the WSJ into a pretty magazine, then each paper will come with special edition U2 autographed reading gloves to prevent ink smudges.

I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’ve never actually read a newspaper in print before. My sunglasses have a computer installed so I can read the BBC online while shaking hands with AIDS victims or when we have to play songs off Pop during concerts. (I still can’t believe I listened to Edge when he said “All the cool bands are going ambient.”)

2. Reporting should be more temporal. People shouldn’t be told what to think. They need to connect with the spirit of the article to draw their own conclusions. For instance, this story about China enslaving its citizens gets bogged down with suffocating information.

“In early March, Li Yaokai, a skinny 18-year-old from this small mountainside village in central China, embarked on his first trip to the provincial capital. It didn’t take long for him to get dragged into a huge forced-labor scandal whose gruesome details are now coming to light.”

Sorry Mr. Fairclough, you lost me at Li. With some “light” editing, this passage can be pared down to the following stanza journalism sentence cluster:

Trapped in a land of yellow
Torture is freedom from choice
How long must we sing this song*

3. News will now cost $200. Exactly twice as much as a computer and half as much as an obstructed-view ticket at one of my shows. But seriously this news piracy must end. In addition to the standard distribution department, I will create an offsetting branch of equal or greater force known simply as “confiscation”. Confiscators will follow readers and scoop up the papers once the original buyer has finished reading. Delivery boys will be tailed by a collection crew.

Hope you are up to the task delivery team, my accumulation squad will look like this! (Not the bloody guy on the right.) Finally, all discussion of current events between non-subscribers in real time must be limited to a three sentence brief.

That should do it. Oh and just in case it might become a problem later, I will need approximately 250 sick days for touring, etc. I think I might be coming down with something … something known as rock’n'roll fever.

As they say in your country … Good on ya,

Bono

*If I’ve used this line before, replace with “I want to be with you night and day” or “imperialism really fucked Africa … Asia?”

I pretty much began that whole “wanting to save the world” thing. I mean, Mother Theresa did it too, but I looked GOOD doing it. And Jesus did it, I guess. But Jesus didn’t SING!

I was COOL. And I SANG. No wonder George Clooney wants my advice on how to be an activist.

Everything that I do as a humanitarian stems from what I’ve learned as a singer. For example, when giving an impassioned speech, I always project from my diaphragm. So I told George to do the same thing and draw on his acting experience. I’m pretty sure that he had a stint on ER. He should USE what he’s learned from that and provide African children with some much needed medical attention!

So I hear that Sir Paul “Not Dead” McCartney has come out with a new album. It’s hard NOT to hear about it. Every station I turn on, it’s “Oh look at me, I’m Paul McCartney! I’m 64 and still making albums! Where’s my tea?”

Well I’m sorry, World! I’m sorry that I can’t put out a mediocre album too! I guess I’m just too busy saving Vanity Fair and writing for Africa to make an album right now! How about that, Paul? Where’s your issue of Vanity Fair? Oh that’s right, you spend all your time in STARBUCKS now! Do you know how many Starbucks there are in Africa?

Well… I’m not sure. My meals are mostly catered to me on a private jet. But probably NOT A LOT! And if there is a Starbucks in Africa, it probably only has one drink size: Poverty! (Which, I imagine, is somewhere in between a tall and a grande.)

I’m really steamed up over this. I’m about to arrange a throw down. Or take my glasses off again (How long until that loses effect?).

So the U.S. wants to send $86 million to President Mahmoud Abbas, in an effort to legitimize his government and de-legitimize Hamas’ Gaza-centered factions. Now, I know President Bush, he’s a cool guy. He errs a little too much on the side of Hank Williams in the old iTunes playlists, but we’ve bridged our differences. That said, I can’t just sit back and attend to my charities for Third World Debt Relief, AIDS Awareness, and the Product Red Campaign. I have to get involved. So I’m pledging $86,000,001 to Abbas, plus some signed copies of Achtung Baby for Hard Rock Cafe Bethlehem. And a trip! I’ll get a picture for my Wall of me in sunglasses with world leaders or with these fine gentlemen pictured above. Looks like that lad on the far right just heard Coldplay’s “The Scientist”. Posers.

Photo by 2007, urtea.