My husband was sitting next to me. It was dark in there, but thanks to the 80 bajillion or so swirling lights and camera flashes, I could see that he was clearly impressed.

He leaned over and said, "Look, he's flying around now, and he's wearing a laser shirt."

"Of course," I said.

We were watching U2, after all.

I finally caved in and went to see Bono & Co. at Reliant Wednesday night.

I've never been their biggest fan (I tend to prefer my rock stars smaller and a little more sullen), but I figured if they've been cool for 30 years, they must be doing something right. >> Continue reading: A critique from the nosebleed seats: U2 rocks Reliant

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OK. So at this point, I'm guessing even Johnnie Cochran couldn't find a reason to defend Jon Gosselin.

(Especially since he's ... um ... no longer living. Thanks for ruining my lead, Wikipedia.)

But the point I'm trying to make is, Jon Gosselin is the biggest marginally famous doofy greaseball in the storied history of marginally famous doofy greaseballs.

And that's saying something (I'm looking at YOU, Kato).

But - prepare for a shock in 3 ... 2 ... 1 - Jon is not the Gosselin I'm taking issue with today.

My beef is with his soon-to-be ex-wife.

>> Continue reading: Kate Gosselin says she can't pay her bills. I say BALONEY

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