Who pulled plug on Springsteen & McCartney? Was it Mitt?

We don’t know the identity of the scoundrel who pulled the plug on Sunday’s historic Bruce Springsteen/Paul McCartney Hyde Park performance, but let’s out of speculative spite say it was Mitt Romney.

He’s very uptight, strict about petty rules and may have been upset that both Bruce and Paul will out of principle refuse his millionaire tax cuts.

That’s how polarized we are.

Something inhuman and barbaric like what happened in London happens and we immediately suppose the guy we oppose was behind it.

I only made the absurd charge about Romney to beat Limbaugh to the punch. He’s a day late from blaming the whole fiasco on Obama. And why would Obama pull the plug on such a great show?

Obama hates America, of course.

And what says America more than a kid from New Jersey and a kid from Liverpool getting together in London to play a few tunes by the Union Jack’s greatest export?

The more I think about it the angrier I get. You have Paul McCartney and Bruce Springsteen, among the top five most beloved musicians in history, playing “I Saw Her Standing There,” “Twist & Shout,” and at 10:43 p.m., right in the middle of “La Bamba” you pull the plug?

Who would do such a thing?

My first guess was Johnnie from the uproarious “Airplane!” movies. He was the flamboyant air traffic controller adept at making things like hats and broaches out of vital weather maps.

He pulled the plug during a crucial approach of an endangered jet liner making it a bad day for Lloyd Bridges’ character to quit sniffing glue.

I wonder if that’s how Springsteen felt.

“I’ve waited 50 years for this!” he exalted as McCartney strolled without fanfare onto the stage.

So something he’d anticipated for years was over in the blink of an eye and failed to live up to his heady expectations. Look for The Boss to write a bittersweet song equating the event with losing his virginity.

I first heard about it when I read some retweets by E Streeter Little Stevie Van Zandt. He was livid.

“English cops may be the only individuals left on earth that wouldn’t want to hear one more from Bruce Springsteen and Paul McCartney!” he wrote.

And, “I’m sorry but I have to be honest. I’m pissed. Like I said, it didn’t ruin the great night. But when I’m jamming with McCartney don’t bug me.”

This is no idle threat coming from a guy who’s buddies with Tony Soprano, another huge Springsteen fan who may or may not still be alive chewing onion rings in an obscure Jersey diner at this very moment.

It’s been my privilege to see Springsteen 20 times, McCartney once (I still tingle at the sublime recollection).

I guarantee there were tears in the eyes of thousands of fans as the two shared a microphone on “I Saw Her Standing There.”

This will go down in rock ‘n’ roll history as one of music’s worst crimes. We’re left to wonder just what might have been.

As I said, we don’t know anything about who gave the order to pull the plug for what they said were public safety concerns.

But we can make some informed guesses.

It’s a person who doesn’t get high or approve of anyone who does. It is someone who reveres order over spontaneity. It’s someone who if you ask, “Stones or Beatles?” will probably respond “Donnie Osmond -- but only the old stuff.”

It is starting to sound a lot like Mitt

Or maybe Roger Goodell.

We may never know.

But I know this: If they can do it to McCartney and Springsteen, they can do it anyone.

So beware. Any venue, forum or blog is now subject to the no-fun police let loose on society to cause pain in happy places where people seek joy and enlightenment.

Wholesome places like this humble little --

THIS BLOG HAS BEEN BY TEMPORARILY SHUT DOWN BY ORDER OF THE LONDON POLICE. STOP HAVING FUN IMMEDIATELY AND GO STRAIGHT TO BED.

AND NO HANKY-PANKY!

Clarence Clemons, 1942-2011

The last time I saw Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band I noticed Clarence Clemons had gold fingernails.

I remember thinking it wasn’t gold paint.

I thought it was actual gold and that’s just the way he grew them. He was just that cool.

You can check out a picture and decide for yourself here in my inconsequential blog review of the Boss’s May 19, 2009, Pittsburgh concert.

It’ll take the death of a Stone to so fundamentally change one of the great remaining bands the way the death of Clemons changes Bruce and the band.

The artistic generosity of Springsteen meant Clemons would often steal the song and always steal the show.

“When the change was made up town and the Big Man joined the band

“From the coastline to the city all the little pretties raise their hands”

His vocal baritone cameos on “Fire,” “10th Avenue Freeze Out,” and the on-stage mugging between Clemons and Springsteen always sent fans into frenzies.

Clemons liberated the saxophone from the high school band room and made it as eloquent a rock ‘n’ roll instrument as the sainted guitar.

I argue he did as much for race relations as Jesse Jackson, Al Sharpton or any of the pretenders to Martin Luther King Jr.’s throne.

That’s him on the black and white cover of maybe the greatest rock album of all time, “Born to Run,” from 1975.

The picture shows the greatest American rock ‘n’ roll star since Elvis draped across the back of a big black man in such an affectionate interracial embrace it seemed to demolish multiple taboos.

This brother was a brother.

It’s fitting, too, because the album is as much his as it is Bruce’s. His saxophone makes indelible contributions on the monumental title cut, “Thunder Road,” “10th Avenue Freezeout,” “Night,” and most memorably on “Jungleland.”

Even as Bruce began writing studio songs away from Clemons, the Clemons solos remained concert highlights.

I listened to all 318 Springsteen songs in chronological order over 23.5 hours to write a career retrospective of one of America’s most important artists.

I’m still struck by the 16-year span from 1986-2002 when Bruce Springsteen chose to not record with one of the greatest bands in American history.

It still stuns. He did a bunch of mostly forgettable solo and often self-indulgent treacle while the scattered band did solo projects that never broke the pop culture surface.

I remember Clemons saying watching Bruce make music with other musicians was like watching your wife make love to other men.

And, you know, it felt like that to the rest of us, too. Each new release of forgettable material was like attending a divorce proceeding in family court where our custody was being decided.

What the hell was he thinking?

It took the tragedy of 9/11 for him to reunite the band for the sake of our national psyche.

That’s when even he understood. This isn’t just a band.

These are our brothers and sisters, our aunts and uncles. They raised us. They’re in all our scrapbooks.

There are times when I, and I’m not ashamed of this, actually look forward to the deaths of our legends, to the days when a well-aged Paul McCartney, Elton John or Mick Jagger struts off to rock ‘n’ roll heaven.

There will be parties at their passings.

Not out of disdain, certainly. It’s just that they’ve given us so much and I truly love them and I’m looking forward to putting their entire playlist on random and getting good and gassed listening to the songs that have meant so much to me.

It’s a kind of mourning we can all enjoy.

The passing of Clarence Clemons doesn’t feel at all like something to celebrate.

This was a death in the family.