U2 at 5:30 a.m. tomorrow? Count me out.

Talk about lame. Who would wake up at 5:00 a.m. just to eat some lame-o oatmeal and mush and then go to the lame-o grassy quadrangle to sit around in the lame-o cold for hours and watch some lame-o Irishmen sing about boots? I lay even money that Edward’s Parade is a ghost town tomorrow morning. Ghost Town. And not the awesome type of ghost town. The lame-o, boring type of ghost town. Oh, well. I’ll be sitting pretty with my paper stacked high, with the ladies thinking all about the pie in the sky.

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