You and I have absolutely nothing in common with the members of U2. The Irish quartet has sat at the zenith of fame for twenty straight years. They sell out stadiums at every end of the world, own hotels and restaurants, talk with the U.N., and live a life unimaginable to most (though it should be said that 95% of U2’s fame is really Bono’s fame). Bono’s international prestige and abundance of global experiences have insulated him from real world experiences. It’s not that Bono doesn’t understand the proletariat anymore — after all, U2’s ostensible raison d’être is humanism — it’s that Bono’s wealth of experience has resulted in a righteous and celestial persona that has produced the worst music of his career. Indeed, there have been several bloody Sunday’s to sing about, but Bono’s now the one ineffectively mediating the crisis at the U.N., not the one protesting at the front line. This is why Bono’s motives are viewed with suspicion, why his idealism in regards to African aid is considered naïve, and why he is a constant parody of the “celebrity meets activist” paradigm.
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