1.2

Bono had broken his favorite pair of wraparound rose-tinted sunglasses, especially made for him in Rome.

It was a simple thing: he set them on the dining room table (casually like he had done a million times before), read The New York Times and ate breakfast with his wife, Ali.

The conversation somehow started off with “Have you read such and such book, number three on the Hardcover Fiction list?” and ended with something like “How the fuck am I supposed to save the world, Ali, I’m just a fucking Rock Star?!”

A gesture, intended to make a clear and concise point to his wife, instead knocked his glasses clear across the marble floor. The acetate was so scratched to hell that nothing he could do would bring them back to their previous pristine (although rather oily) condition (he even rubbed flax oil on them, which just made them more oily).

In the end, he tossed them in the recycling bin. It was a horrible way to start the day.

The world was not as beautiful without his pretty pink shades, thought Bono. It was drab, dreary, and gray. Ireland looked cold without pink sunglasses. Just like Africa looked warm without his violet tinted shades. It was a matter of balanced perspective.

He put on his tangerine Bulgari’s and set about to have his rose shades fixed when he ran into the Canadian Ambassador to Ireland (who incidentally lived directly across from him, on a much larger and nicer estate).

This disturbed Bono further.

Why should the Canadian Ambassador to Ireland have a thirty million dollar estate? What the hell did he do anyway? Does Canada even need an Ambassador to Ireland?

Even if Canada did, should the Canadian Ambassador live on a bigger estate than a rock star? He thought not. As far as he could tell it was only occupied by the Ambassador and his wife. And from what Bono could determine, the Canadian Ambassador did not even play a musical instrument.

He must remember to bring this up at the United Nations the next time he spoke to them.

He should invite the Canadian Prime Minister over for dinner to discuss the matter. He was miffed at him anyway for not fulling the amount of aid obligation to the third world, and for bowing out on the environment so he really could use the chance to have a nice, rational talk. Maybe he could fly the PM here on Thursday.

Better yet, Bono could fly there.