I use the English language in mysterious ways.

Walking between the raindrops in a fantastical-gray Dublin December, I begin to muse and meander through the days and nights (and everything in between) of this strange, strange year. In the first decade of a new millennium, we seemed not to progress, but perhaps to take a sheepish step backward. Brave Old World.

Sure, you say, bard of ole’ Ireland, what do you know of change? You sing. (To some, cacophony; others, symphony.) Rhymey timey. Singy songey.

But I have walked the beaches and the barrios of a cornucopia of nations, those with boundaries and those without. I’ve swam the oceans and pools of each corner of this verdant Mother earth.

And it is She, quiet matriarch who asks little of her brood, for whom I fear most in this next ten– tenuous, tendentious– years. They say the icey dreamscapes of the great North will slushily succumb and the waters will rise.

It’s high time to bide the high tide. If we wait any longer, baby, it’s gonna be too late. Emissions is the Mission.

Boppity gippity. Dippity doo. Ga-na-ha-da. Ooo-eee-ewww. The times they are a-climate changing. Bono. Mono. Stereo. Hero. Boyo.

Polar bears. Solar cares. Git git gedak. Foppity woppity. Drippity droo.

Humbly yours,
BONO, singer (nay– dreamer.)

(Editor’s Note: Readers are recommended to see also, Guest Blogger: Meghan McCain. Also, you may want to check out this actual [i.e. non-satirical] column by Bono.)

I told you to send my royalty checks to the Netherlands!

U2 lead singer Bono contributed a desultory, barely intelligible guest column to the New York Times over the weekend, consisting largely of telling Americans what they believe, or stand for, or something. He also shares his cartoonishly simplistic pop-rock worldview:

Americans are like singers — we just a little bit, kind of like to be loved. The British want to be admired; the Russians, feared; the French, envied. (The Irish, we just want to be listened to.)

I won’t get into his bizarre, International House of Pancakes determinism for the attitudes of British, Russians, French or Irish. But Americans want to be loved? Are you fucking serious? That may be true for Alec Baldwin, Perez Hilton and the lead singer of the Killers, but I seldom meet anybody who who actually seeks to be loved by foreigners, unless they’re pathologically insecure.

Here’s another turd from the clueless rocker:

America is not just a country but an idea, a great idea about opportunity for all and responsibility to your fellow man.

I’m glad we have Bono to tell us what America is. (Now if only The Edge would advise me on how to run my small business…)

However, where the hell did he come up with the idea that America is about “responsibility to your fellow man”? That sounds more like Marx than Jefferson. It’s really not hard to ascertain that Americans are an individualist lot and such a statement is deeply problematic– but that might require Bono to doff his freaky ski goggles and look around.