Kiss My @$$, I’m Irish.
I really don’t like Saint Patrick’s Day. There, I said it, I feel better.
And I’m Irish. Which is probably one reason I don’t like Saint Patrick’s Day. Maybe it’s the hundreds of people wearing shirts, buttons, badges, hats, glasses, lounge pants and scarves that say, “Kiss me, I’m Irish!” Maybe it’s the green ice cream, pancakes, beer, et cetera. Or maybe it’s the fact that every third person you see uses the day as an excuse to get ridiculously drunk, ‘cause, you know, it’s the “Irish” thing to do.
On second thought, maybe it’s the fact that people insist on asking why I’m not “dressed” for the holiday, why I’m not piss-drunk, and why I turn my nose up at any foodstuffs that have been dyed the same color as the Incredible Hulk. I’m not the politically correct type, but it sticks in my craw that a bunch of people have reduced Irishness to a bunch of tired stereotypes.
So I’ll chill at home, put on the Dubliners and the Pogues loud enough to wake the dead, read some Yeats, and have myself a nice pint of Guinness… the proper kind that looks like 10W40, thank you very much. And if anyone asks me why I’m not wearing green, why my stout is that lovely brown, or if I would please turn down If I Should Fall from Grace with God
Happy Saint Patrick’s Day.
Tags: Dubliners, Guinness, Pogues, rants, Saint Patrick's Day