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The 50 year old, whose real name is Paul Hewson, is under the care of neurosurgeon Dr. Joerg Tonn and Dr. Hans-Wilhelm Mueller-Wohlfahrt, according to a statement on U2's website.

Mueller-Wohlfahrt could not be reached for comment.

Band manager Paul McGuinness, in an MP3 posted on the website, said Friday that because of the injury, the band's "360-Degree" June 3 show in Salt Lake City, Utah, has been postponed. It was not immediately clear if other dates also were canceled.

McGuinness says, "We hope to get things resolved as soon as possible."

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Online:

http://www.u2.com

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Nora Walsh-DeVries

I was supposed to be Tweeting from the Lincoln Memorial concert today, but it turns out Tweetin' ain't easy, in a crowd estimated at 400,000. I couldn't get on the Internet most of the time, could rarely text, e-mail or get a cell signal. It seemed strange to be so technologically thwarted on a day celebrating the victory of the world's most wired politician and campaign. But that meant ultimately I could stop trying to communicate and just enjoy it, and I did (once I tuned out the sight of sharpshooters lining the top of the Lincoln Memorial).

If you're looking for snark, go elsewhere. (OK, the bald eagle thing was kind of hokey.) I am officially over my Rick Warren tantrum (at least until I see him Tuesday); between Episcopal Bishop Eugene Robinson's moving blessing to open the concert, to the San Francisco Gay Men's Chorus singing "My Country Tis of Thee" where Marian Anderson sang it almost 70 years ago (after the Daughters of the American Revolution kept her out of Constitution Hall because she was black), followed shortly thereafter by the Navy Men's Glee Club. Rick Warren, you can't take that away from me. When the openly gay Robinson called on God to "bless us with anger -- at discrimination, at home and abroad, against refugees and immigrants, women, people of color, gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people," I knew we're not in Dick Cheney's America anymore.

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The next question, about his asterisk-level standing in the polls and his anemic fundraising, may have prompted Biden to wonder why he had lingered. But rather than decry the horse-race surveys or make excuses for the paltry $2.4 million he collected in the second quarter (sixth place in the Democratic money marathon), the six-term Delaware senator made his anything-can-happen argument with the aid of a potent audience-participation experiment.

Biden simply asked, "How many of you think that the majority of the people in Iowa have firmly made up their mind about how they will vote in the caucuses?" Not a single hand was raised, demonstrating that most Iowans recognize how shallow are the sentiments reflected in the polls.

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It's awfully tempting to look at this media play and start cracking jokes about how Forbes magazine is going to go all-out on a campaign for debt relief for Africa and increased foreign aid for HIV prevention. That would be something of an editorial revolution, since Steve Forbes, the publisher, is on record as critiquing Bono's approach to helping out the world's poor and sick. As he wrote in his column just a few months ago:

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According to a Reuters report, Wolfowitz initiated two long telephone conversations with the U2 front-man, who may have been a contender for the job Wolfowitz is getting. With Europe and much of the developing world less than enthusiastic about Wolfowitz' nomination, the deputy secretary of defense knows that a good word from Bono might ease his way.

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"Gay and lesbian and transgender Americans are exactly that -- Americans," Affleck said as a crowd of about a thousand roared its approval. "They're entitled to the same goddamned right as any other American, and to say otherwise is outrageous and offensive."

The Democratic Convention has transformed Boston into Hollywood, at least for a few days. While blue-blazered pols and their fans outnumber anyone else, A-listers and B-listers from the other coast shimmer around town, stirring up excitement in the way that a chance sighting of Dick Gephardt sometimes fails to do.

Glenn Close spoke from the podium Monday night. Bono has been seen on the convention floor, and Jerry Springer never seems to leave. Members of the cast of "The O.C." and the band Everclear have been around, and Black Eyed Peas, Los Lobos and the Neville Brothers have performed at a number of events.

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But don't call Bono a rocker with a cause. "This isn't a cause, we all have our causes. This is an emergency," he said on Sunday as he launched the ONE campaign to convince Americans that we need to demand a more urgent response from our leaders to the crisis in Africa.

Bono, co-founder of Debt AIDS Trade Africa, which advocates for African countries, wants 1 percent of the U.S. budget devoted to AIDS and poverty in Africa. But Bono's still trying to convince President Bush and Congress to follow through on their last round of promises, including providing cheap antiretroviral drugs -- plentiful right here in our neighborhood drugstores -- to Africa, where every day 6,500 people die from HIV/AIDS as another 9,500 get infected.

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"They're on a roll," says Arthur Belendiuk, a Washington communications attorney who has helped file indecency complaints against radio broadcasters in recent years. "Indecency is clearly the flavor of the month at the FCC. How long it will last nobody knows."

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Aww ... Russell Crowe and his romantically named band, 30 Odd Foot of Grunts, serenaded his bride, Danielle Spencer, after their wedding yesterday. And they danced to Bjorn Again, a band of ABBA impersonators. The party must have been a success, since there were reports of many hangovers. (Sydney Morning Herald)

Winona Ryder's lawyer suggested to the court yesterday that the loot she swiped be auctioned off and the proceeds donated to charity. Since she ripped off a Marc Jacobs cashmere top ($760), a pair of Gucci shoes ($300) and two Yves St. Laurent blouses -- among many other items -- the sum raised could be hefty. Seems like a good idea, but the D.A. wasn't buying it. The judge told Winona, "I want you to continue what you have been doing." We assume he means community service, not visiting Saks. (Herald-Times)

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Then you deluged us with your comments, and we asked you to pick your own sexiest man alive. The results of this informal Salon reader poll are now in, with more than 200 people having made 76 nominations. The winner? No contest: Russell Crowe, the reader's choice by a mile, got 85 votes; the No. 2 vote-getter was Michael Vartan, with 18 votes.

Not only did you vote for the smoldering gladiator, but you also told us why he turns you on. Here are some sample quotes from reader e-mails:

"He has a voice that rumbles like a volcano before it erupts, that coats you like maple syrup over pancakes, and eyes that bore into your soul ..."

"He is not pretty but, boy oh boy, is he ever a man!!!!!!!"

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Well, according to the Los Angeles Times, Jackson himself ditched the song "What More Can I Give?" when his advisors discovered the song's executive producer had gay porn biz connections.

Which is not to say that Jackson's abandoned all his philanthropic efforts. Far from it. Why, just the other day he informed celebrity researcher Baird Jones that even his smelly old gloves are selflessly donated to charity.

"I never reuse the glove that I wear during my performance; that glove belongs to that unique moment," Jackson tells Jones during a meeting of the nose-free singer's fan club.

"When my act is over, I put the glove in a very safe place so that it is not damaged or lost," he says. "Later I give the gloves to a charity to be auctioned later. I never sell them for personal gain."

Really, people, what more can he give?

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Slight problem

"I found Lara smart, sardonic and witty, but I thought I needed a bigger girl. If you're going to have a villain, you don't want someone who weighs less than your dog."

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Recently, the "Die Hard" star announced his intention to give up action flicks. Now, he says he's ready to give up dating, too.

"It's different for me because I've got 'jackpot' stamped on my forehead," Willis told Britain's Radio 1. "So it's always difficult to know. I think that you cannot underestimate the allure of the cult of fame ... I would like to be judged or chosen because of who I am as a human being. Not because of the fame."

But Demi Moore's ex suspects the fault, dear Bruce fans, is not in his star status, but in himself.

"In the last 20 years of relationships, I would meet someone and mistake infatuation for love," he says. "We'd just hang on real tight and jump off the cliff with our eyes closed -- and pray that we don't crash into the rocks that are always there. I'm trying a different way now."

A rope ladder?

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Make new friends, but keep the old

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At 41, Bono is at an age when many rock musicians start exploiting bygone successes to keep feeding at the trough of fame. But with Bono, it's more than a rock 'n' roll career. Behind the black leather togs and wraparound shades, there has always been an earnest social crusader. Embarrassingly earnest? Perhaps. But, oddly, that's part of his charm. In a business where people sell their souls for success, he has constantly risked celebrity-cause cliché -- and he knows it. "The only thing worse than a rock star," he told the starry-eyed Harvard grads, "is a rock star with a conscience. I've seen great minds and prolific imaginations disappear up their own ass, strung out on their own self-importance. I'm one of them."

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If so, her father didn't give her away. Or if he did, he's not giving anything away now.

Sergei Kournikov is vehemently denying reports that his 20-year-old tennis pro offspring got herself hitched to hockey player Sergei Fedorov in a secret ceremony in Moscow earlier this month. According to Kournikov, the report, like last year's tabloid rumor that she married hockey player Pavel Bure, is about as true as that story about Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt expecting their first child.

"To be honest with you, I am sick and tired with the calls about her marriage," Kournikov told BBC News. "Last year it was Bure; now it's Fedorov."

Anna is busy training in Florida and hasn't been in Moscow for months, he says. "Only yesterday I spoke with her on the phone and I think she would be very surprised to hear about this latest rumor."

Anyone like to return the volley?

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Confessions of a screamer

"You grow up and your mom and dad tell you to close your legs, and you're in high school and you can't scream too loud 'cause your mom is downstairs. So you grow up and you have all these limits on sex."

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Hannah has accepted undisclosed libel damages and a heartfelt apology from the London Mirror, after the paper acknowledged running a "false and very embarrassing" article about her.

Last October, in an article headlined "Jittery Daryl Goes Walkies," the paper alleged that Hannah skipped out on final rehearsals of the West End production of "The Seven-Year Itch" so she could fly home to Los Angeles to celebrate her pet pooch's birthday. In truth, Hannah was promoting another project, and her absence had been prearranged.

"Through me the defendant offers its sincere apologies to the claimant for the distress and embarrassment caused by this article," the tabloid's lawyer Anna Coppola told the London High Court judge presiding over the case. "It entirely accepts that the allegations are false."

Fine, but has anyone apologized to the dog?

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Crop tops for Deborah?

"I think if you add both their ages together, I'm still older."

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Though no one ever accused the slender Mr. Combs of being chunky (Phat? Yes. Fat? No), the troubled rapper has apparently dropped gobs of poundage since his relationship with Jennifer Lopez went south and his weapons and bribery trial got underway.

According to the New York Daily News, the depressed Puffster has shed nearly 30 pounds in the last two months alone.

Poor Puffy!

A pal told Daily News columnists Rush and Malloy that the rap mogul was "heartbroken" and "devastated" when he saw photos of Lopez cozying up to dancer Cris Judd.

And Puffy himself recently told the New York Post that "it hurts; I still love her. It's just bad all over."

Awwww.

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Another jilted beau gets trim

"I feel slightly bereft and naked -- though I'm getting used to it."

-- Hugh Grant on trading in his trademark floppy-haired look for a spiky new do for an upcoming film.

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Are you my mother?

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Followers of the diminutive rapper and her musical rival Capone, of the rap duo Capone-n-Noreaga, were apparently involved in a confrontation that resulted in the shooting of a man described as a "hanger on" outside the downtown New York studio of the radio station Hot 97 on Sunday.

Whether or not the rappers were directly involved is unclear. In fact, it's not even certain they were still at the scene at the time the gunplay began. But, according to the New York Post, Lil' Kim (aka Kimberly Jones) and her crew left the studio around 3 p.m., after guesting on a radio show, and ran into Kiam "Capone" Holley and his entourage, who were headed inside.

Words were exchanged, more than 20 shots were fired and one man, a follower of one of the rappers, was reportedly injured.

Sounds more than a lil' unpleasant.

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Do you suppose Liberace was gay, too?

"Of course I'd heard of Elton John, but I didn't know he was gay. I didn't know anything about his personal life. I didn't really care, but being that he was gay and he had my back, I think it made a statement in itself saying that he understood where I was coming from."

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Wenders' art noir is one of those pickles-and-ice-cream movies that leave you wondering what the people involved could possibly have been thinking. It desperately wants to be an American movie, a murder mystery-cum-doomed romance with a skid row Los Angeles setting and Mel Gibson as the dogged detective. Wenders loves the idea of American movies. You could tell that from his last movie, "The End of Violence," in which the Griffith Park Observatory scenes were clearly meant to echo "Rebel Without a Cause" and pulp director Samuel Fuller had a supporting role. In "The Million Dollar Hotel," when he shoots Milla Jovovich loitering in a nighttime alley while she smokes a cigarette and fog swirls around her, he's trying to conjure up the danger and romance of '40s noir. And the shots of bare hotel rooms with a single shaft of sunlight cutting through the dinginess or of street people huddled around diner counters in the wee hours continue the re-creation of the Edward Hopper canvases Wenders did in "The End of Violence."

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