So, Pink Floyd is getting back together to play the Live 8 concert.

For some reason.

The last time they performed together with the almost-original, minus-the-crazy-guy line-up, I was all of ten or eleven years old. Now, they decide to return to preach to the world about how we should all (defined mostly as the United States) be giving more to the poor dictatorships of the world.

“Like most people, I want to do everything I can to persuade the G8 leaders to make huge commitments to the relief of poverty and increased aid to the Third World,” Gilmour said. 

“It’s crazy that America gives such a paltry percentage of its GNP to the starving nations.”

Somehow, Pink Floyd’s reunion gives me the same sense of bemusement as realizing that Mike Tyson is leaving boxing with his tail between his legs: not only did I not know that he had a fight scheduled for the weekend, but who really cares anymore? I mean, aside from his creditors.

Hey, I’ll still break out the occasional Floyd CD and wish I had some chemical accompaniment to make the experience more of what I remember, but I don’t imagine that they have much new to tell me. Hell, they’ve been living off the good will and memories of burned out acid freaks and the amazing longevity of Dark Side of the Moon and The Wall for decades.

At least if Mike Tyson really does run off to be a missionary somewhere, we’ll be well rid of him. Pink Floyd could always decide to cash in on the high-priced has beens touring trend, bringing their extra-special sense of self-importance to a stadium near you soon.