AND MORE:
1996
Dear Mum:
I am writing you this from Japan. The picture on this postcard is of a monastery. We went there to visit. Bono kept asking what things were called in Japanese. The monk would say a word and Bono would repeat it. Except poorly. And in this annoying reverential whisper. He thinks the monks are so serene, but what Bono doesn't know is that they are, in fact, killing machines. Any one of them could crumple Bono's windpipe with a single swift blow to the throat. Bono would stagger around gasping for air before he collapsed in a Zen rock garden, dead. And that would be ironic. Because Bono talks so often about how much he loves to "rock."
Love,
The Edge
2000
Dear Mum:
This morning I was next in the toilet after Bono's friend Salman Rushdie. He forgot to flush.
Love,
The Edge
2003
Dear Mum:
Tonight we are playing a free concert in Johannesburg. At the news conference, Bono wore sunglasses. We were indoors. It was night. But, still, the sunglasses. Is he secretly full of shame? Every night when he lies down in his silk sheets, does he toss and turn knowing that his political activism is obviously more an exercise in ego-stroking than genuine goodwill? Does he weep? Does he think about hurling himself from his penthouse balcony and landing with a sickening splat on the pavement below, Bono no more? Oh, I have a new goatee. It's working out pretty well.
Love,
The Edge
2006
Dear Mum:
In case you haven't heard, Bono is up for the Nobel Peace Prize. Henry Kissinger won that thing, once. And Henry Kissinger is responsible for numerous atrocities. Like carpet-bombing Cambodian villages. Do you know what else is an atrocity, Mum? "Lemon." I hate that song. I hate that video. I hate that idiotic MacPhisto character with the devil horns. And another thing—remember "Numb"? My token single? Bono hid a tape recorder in my hotel room when I was doing my affirmations ("Don't think, don't worry, everything is just fine," etc.) and then had Lanois set them to music in the studio. If Bono wins this award, I do not know what I will do. I imagine I will cease to believe in anything. Even my guitar. These will be the end times, Mum. The Apocalypse. Armageddon. To be safe, I will say goodbye now, before it's too late. Goodbye, Mum. I love you. Goodbye.
Love,
The Edge
P.S. Thanks for sending those date squares! They were delicious.
THAT´S ALL ENJOYYYY
,etc cause I cant post addresses either 
)
THIEF!!
She hates her name and insists we all call her Sam!!! At least she has a pretty option if she decides to grow out of the 'Sam' phase!!!
