Jesse fucking Helms?

There's nothing sadder than the death of a childhood crush, is there? Especially a long, drawn-out death, like being shot in the stomach and burbling your last bloody breath out, except instead of the last 5 minutes of a movie, this lasted 15 years. Bono, this is how you did it. With a helpful timeline.


0. My sister and I used to act out the video for "With or Without you" when I was 12, especially the parts when you swung your guitar (didn't notice the leather vest worn shirtless, cringe), memory a bit unclear but I may have been you, and my sister might have been the guitar. Love is still as yet unsprung, as was heavily into Madonna for the only time in my life. N.B. It's funny what the tapes your parents bought for you (Sade, Madonna, Whitney, Blondie) said about your parents. Like, my dad is a total diva and my mom (ABBA and Billy Joel) is a gay man.

1. I fell in love with your blond-frosted mullet when I was fifteen. I loved U2 with all the power of a 15 year-old romantic heart and thought you were rebels and freedom-fighters. You forced me out of a short stint with NKOTB, for which I will always be grateful, no matter how much of a douche you are now.

2. My room became papered with your posters, edging out Motley Crue (sorry, Nikki) and my teddy-bear-pushing-a-wheelbarrow-full-of-vegetables tapestry. My friend even mounted my favourite poster, a Joshua Tree-era black and white concert shot for my birthday one year. Even though my sister soon pierced your mounted crotch with a pair of scissors during one of our epic fights, the altar-like effect of having the huge poster propped up on a dresser surrounded by books and candles was unaffected.

3. Fast forward through the years, I loved your new hair, debuted in the "Mysterious Ways" video (probably why I still have a predilection for slightly greasy guys with leather pants and too-long hair), and even though I cried the first time I heard Zooropa (not in a good way, I came home from school, ran upstairs to my room, put the cd on and then wept for 45 minutes, facedown into my pillow. I am also slightly diva-like) I convinced myself that I could grow to like it and the new stage performer mutiple-personas (wtf, Mephisto?). However, "The Wanderer" introduced me to Johnny Cash, who I will never tire of, so thanks again, douchebag.

4. Now we're at university, and suddenly, even though I'd brought all your cds with me, I found myself listening to very different music. I felt sad about it, like outgrowing a baby blanket. Note, I still bought Original Soundtracks 1 and Pop (which I didn't mind), out of guilt and loyalty.

5. When I moved to Philadelphia for grad school and was severely homesick, All That You Can't Leave Behind was a brief comfort, thank god for Brian Eno (sigh, Roxy Music) and Daniel Lanois, who is amazing and super-underrated as an artist in his own right. But the cheese-factor of "Beautiful Day" and the Salman Rushdie tie-in of "The Ground Beneath her Feet" should have warned me that worse times were to come.

6. And they did, with the monstrous crap that was the How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb album. Watershed moment: the first U2 album that I didn't buy. Not that it mattered, because I didn't have to feel loyal any more. For some reason, you have a new generation of fans who actually like the banal shit that you do now. They also buy your red and black iPod (for shame) and buy into your ambassador for the world schtick.

7. And then you had dinner at the White House.

8. And then you paid thousands of dollars to ship your diva/army/bowler hat, on a first class airline ticket to whatever speaking engagement/pale shadow of a U2 concert you were doing in Italy.

9. But you weren't dead to me until I saw that Mary J. Blige has a cover of "One" on her new "album", and that not only were you not suing her, you were singing with her. Poof. Good luck on your next collaboration with Hillary Duff or Eminem, I'm sure it'll be awesome.

Nostalgiaville, population:1. Top 10 U2 songs.

1. The Unforgettable Fire
2. Where the Streets Have No Name
3. Sweetest Thing (old version)
4. The Wanderer
5. Mysterious Ways
6. With or Without You
7. MLK
8. Red Hill Mining Town
9. Lady with the Spinning Head
10. Ultraviolet

So, three hours later, I'm sitting cross-legged on my bedroom floor listening to all of my U2 albums. And singing, a bit tearily. I still can't get the pitch right on "With or Without you" right. Remember when I sang/whispered "Where the Streets have No Name" into a tape recorder and then hid it under my bed? When I played "In a Little While" on the phone for my sister from a million miles away? Damn you, Bono, just when I think I'm done with you..

But you still look like an ass in that Che hat.