So tonight we've been blessed with a guest post from a dear old friend.  Some of you know him as Keithie, Qweep, Andy Devine.  Others as Divine Abs.  For those of you who slugged down a bullet of Jameson at 6:20 a.m. somewhere over international waters with him in the late summer of 2002, you probably lovingly called him Devine Slabs.

As far as friends go, few are as long-lasting and loyal as Keith is to me.  While we were out monkeying around and making dicks of ourselves as adolescents, Keith was putting in the real, adult time: weeding his garden, making stews and such, bagging groceries, taking care of his little brothers.  This isn't to say Keithie was always a saint cuz where's the fun in that?  It's just that he got to do his monkeying around later on, as a college student, in the heart of Texas.  And then so: how's that for fitting?  We return now to our intrepid U2 correspondent and resume our programming in mid-broadcast.

He begins his review with a caveat which is his way*. 

One of my Dallas buddies coordinated a mini-bus to take us from Downtown Dallas to the new Cowboy stadium in Arlington.  Brilliant move.  There's nothing like taking down Heinekens and Jameson's shots while sitting in traffic (legally at least - not that I've attempted this feat otherwise).  The new Cowgirl stadium is a monstrous cavern.  Luckily, we had floor tickets, as I can't imagine having to take in the show from the nose bleeds.  Breathe was an excellent decision to open the show - fitting U2's criteria of something off of their most recent album, coming out with energy to kick off the show.  Biggest shock to the system (at least from my perspective) Unforgettable Fire.  I've never seen this one performed live and it was an ethereal experience.  I would've preferred the normal version of I'll Go Crazy, but I know Bono loves the remixes, so I was able to dismiss this departure.  The show was surprisingly void of the usual political grand-standing, with only a brief foray from Bono up onto the pedestal between MLK and Walk On.  I was fortunate enough to be in the beer line for my last $8.50 Miller Lite, so missed the gist of his rambling only to return to a moving rendition of One.  Encore kicks off with Ultraviolet (as Feet-Doggy well knows, my personal favorite off of Achtung), but Bono stays true to the lyrics rather than free-styling as in concerts passed**.  He missed the opportunity to kick it up, but I like the jam so much that I could overlook this.  Ears ringing, I make my way back to the mini-bus, proceed to throw back the rest of the Jameson's and a few more Heinekens.  Three hours of restless "sleep" before jumping up to catch a flight back to KC and return to my paternal responsibilities.

Bono and the boys outdid themselves in sheer grandiosity (is that even a word? if not, it should be).  The set is mammoth.  The whole show, truly a spectacle.  Alex, you and your fellow Los Angelinos, need to get to the Rose Bowl to take this in.


*I'm sure you'll have to gussy it up as my rambling may not be up to snuff with RossAndRoll standards. [no gussying attempted whatsoever, so there--ed.]

**Here Mr. Devine is referring to Bono's habit, on the Zooropa tour, of substituting in "fucked up" for "messed up" as in: "When I was all fucked up and I had opera in my head/your love was a light bulb/it just went over my bed..."