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I never liked U2 for the perfectly valid reason that they have always -- and continue, ravenously -- to suck a mouthful of hot balls. Their songs are uniformly uniform, and although they have in the past shown an ear for a catchy hook, well... so have Hanson. Their fans are of the rabid variety, a-hunnert-percent devoted to their fossilized Irish idols, and here's a fun party game called Spot the U2 Fan, where you say loudly "U2? Terrible. Bono can't sing, and The Joshua Tree has got to be the single most overrated album ever" and then you quick look for the stream of eye daggers from the person across the room who wants desperately to strangle you for defaming his/her reason for living, but can't reveal their U2-loving status in today's rarefied hipster environment because whatever else U2 may be, cool they are not.
Multiple cases are not needed to prove this, but here's a good one from the iPod advertisement that features a violently awful and apparently new U2 jam. Bono starts the song with a traditional rock count off -- you know, the kind that usually goes "one, two , three, four." Except that Bobohead goes "Onze! Dos! Tres! Catorce!" which seems to be one French word followed by three Spanish words, to wit: "Eleven! Two! Three! Fourteen!", which maybe was intentional, but I can't come up with a single intention that contradicts the concept "Bono is stupid." I want to force him to shave his stupid face and then make him fight a to-the-death cage match against Begbie from Trainspotting.
[5:08pm est]
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To be honest I'm a little torn on this one, since U2 was the first popular-music band I ever really got into (and I mean popular-in-my-time: a unique angle on my Stock Tale Of Middle-School Social Estrangement is that I only listened to oldies, pretty much, and most other kids tend to shun the glasses-sporting, horsie-sweater wearing four-foot Roy Orbison fan in the corner of the cafeteria). This was at the time of Achtung Baby, aka "The Imminent Decline," the last-great-before-they-wither-and-die album (see also: Morrissey, Vauxhall and I; Sting, Nothing Like the Sun). I mean, you cannot argue with early U2, like I mean Boy through prolly Rattle & Hum. I won't brook your stupid arguments there. The majesty of Bono's stage theatrics, then, too, were awesome: stompy prancing in stretch pants and boots as anti-war expression! Genius! But yes: despite the fact that the mere sign of Bono's begrizzled, earnest face once made me weep (shut up, it was the first time I ever got my period, okay?), I will agree that this aging glitter-hipster thing has to go. Like Liz Taylor with the black hair dye and Jordan Knight with the continuing to live, it is time for U2 to hang up their hats: raver hats, cowboy hats, even the unironic 'do-rag sported by guitarist The Edge, whom my brother refers to as "Cliff." Onze! Douche! Gay! Quatorze!
[2:44pm pst]
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Okay, you know what? Wait just a goddamned minute. I'm totally speaking out of turn, but fuck it--it's the InterWeb. Unknot yer draws, Emily Post. I took a moment to stew about this issue last night as I stared mournfully into the dregs of my beer, and lo, it was an Irish stew--Ballymaloe, or stobhach gaelach, to be exact. It has occurred to me that you have some crazy, unreasoning hate of the Irish--this is hardly the first time you've spoken out against My People, and then there was the Jameson-hiding pre-roomie shenanigan at your apartment, and let me also say: In the last issue of your 'zine, your little anti-Gaelic article was clearly written under a pseudonym. Is it some kind of New-York-born-Jew thing? You are, in fact, an ardent fan of many of Ireland's exports (food products, clothing, pharmaceuticals, machinery, software, potatoes, sugar beets, wheat, beef, and dairy products). I've got no option but to conclude that your weird prejudice can only be explained as the product of sheer envy. Who wouldn't want to be feisty and awesome? Who wouldn't want a heroic alcohol tolerance, affinity for stringed instruments, skill at storytelling, and frequent weeping? Are you just sadsy-wadsy that the closest you'll get to my cultural magnificence is the occasional McDonald's Shamrock Shake and intermittent bowlsful of Lucky Charms, eaten ony to break the monotony of the bowls of hot dick you so frequently chomp? Must I brain you with a frying pan? Look: secret's out. I totally found your hidden stash of Cranberries imports. Póg mo thoín, dood.
[9:38am pst]
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Goddamnit, Claude, I'm a quarter Irish. I can say what I damn well please, and it ain't jealousy. I thought you knew this shit -- my middle name is Irish. I grew up eating soda bread and matzoh in equal portions. The best part of being part Irish and part Jewish in New York City: green bagels on St. Paddy's day.
[4:30pm est]
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trouble started by Universal Donor
October 28, 2004
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5:05 PM est •
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Hey didn't U2 start out as a Christ-Rock band? Yeah, and maybe there wouldn't have been a potato famine if the average Irishman didn't eat like 20 lbs of potatos a week (and that's not even bullshit.) Now go get me that leprachaun you promised.
# posted by J.Ro : 4:03 PM est
Start out? Aren't they still a Christ-rock band?
# posted by : 11:07 AM est
yes. as jesus is drunk, so am i drunk, totally drunk. water into wine, amigos. quatorze! a-men.
Anyone who has, or has ever had any heart; Is not a Dick... In this day and age it is amazing that anyone would post criticism about something accomplished by another. Even more so if said person has really never accomplished anything themselves. Could his be Jealousy??? Or pehaps your mommy gave you too many potatoes to eat as a young thing. Spoiled!
# posted by : 12:05 AM est
I LOVE BONO!!!!! HE IS THE GREATEST ROCK STAR EVER!
# posted by : 9:55 PM est
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