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Bono Zelensky Ultra-Cringe

U2 frontman makes inadvertent case that Putin might be right
Screen Shot 2022-03-17 at 10.21.04 PM

Oh dear Lord, this is a thing. This is a thing that exists in the world. Via Bono and Nancy Pelosi:

Here’s the poem Bono wrote:

Oh Saint Patrick he drove out the snakes
With his prayers but that’s not all it takes
For the snake symbolizes
An evil that rises
And hides in your heart
As it breaks
And the evil has risen my friends
From the darkness that lives in some men
But in sorrow and fear
That’s when saints can appear
To drive out those old snakes once again
And they struggle for us to be free
From the psycho in this human family Ireland’s sorrow and pain
Is now the Ukraine
And Saint Patrick’s name now Zelensky

I have favored Ukraine in this war, and hoped that they drive back the Russian forces. But thanks to Bono, and his ultra-cringe St. Patrick’s Day poem, maybe I was wrong.

Lord, Bono. I was at a U2 concert in Philadelphia in either 2010 or 2011, can’t remember. He made us all sing happy birthday to Nelson Mandela. I thought, and do think, that Mandela was a hero, but man, how I hated Bono’s moral preening. “Am I buggin’ ya? Am I buggin’ ya? Wouldn’t want to bug ya.” Just shut up and sing, ya dope.

Poor Zelensky, caught between Vladimir Putin and Bono.

UPDATE: Oh for feck’s sake, as the lads say on Grafton Street, of COURSE I was being sarcastic, readers! I am seriously shocked that some of you honestly believed that I would change my mind about this war because Bono was preening about it!

And to ye who are appalled that I would mock St. Bono for this kitschy doggerel, on the grounds that making fun of Bono exercising his bad habit of preachiness is to be indifferent to the Russians killing innocents, I suggest that Milan Kundera was talking about you when he said:

Kitsch causes two tears to flow in quick succession. The first tear says: How nice to see children running on the grass!

The second tear says: How nice to be moved, together with all mankind, by children running on the grass!

It is the second tear that makes kitsch kitsch.

Or, my take:



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