about bono

"About Bono..." I began.
"Don't talk to me about Bono," interrupted my feminist cousin Pauline, "whatever he ever had, he's lost it."
Since, of the two of us, Pauline was the only one present who had ever shared a hotel bedroom with Bono, I was inclined to respect her wishes on this matter, and lapsed into silence.
Exiting her health food shop, I was struck, not for the first time, by the odd incongrueties which punctuate the mystic vicissitudes of existence.