You gotta hand it to Sting: the guy just doesn’t stop. Most people who inspire the hatred of literally millions of people for a long list of entirely valid reasons—from his shitty music to his preternatural self-regard to his insistence on planting in my mind, even for the briefest of horrifying seconds, the image of him having hours-long tantric sex—would probably rest on their laurels. But what makes Sting a genius is that he gets to that point and then apparently asks himself, “What can I do to make more people hate me, and make the hordes of people who already hate the fuck out of me hate the fuck out of me even more?”
The answer, of course, is to get paid millions of dollars for a performance for the daughter of a despot whose regime has allegedly achieved almost supernatural levels of corruption and nastiness: rigging elections, draining one of the largest inland seas in the world to irrigate cash crops, forcing armies of child laborers to work in the fields, torturing prisoners and boiling them to death. I could go on.