Happy St. Patrick's Day

I'm not real interested in St. Patrick's Day excessiveness, as I feel it's basically an American desecration of the original idea. I mean, it's essentially a day to get drunk and pretend you're Irish, which revelers would tell you is redundant. I had never really devoted any thought to it, but tonight, suddenly I thought I was honestly offended.

Offended, because I'm pretty Irish. If you look closely in the picture, you'll see an Irish license plate which, before being tacked to my wall, was tacked to a vehicle owned by my uncle in Carlow. I think St. Patty's Day would be more fun if I wasn't Irish. For example, I think I would have much more fun being Jamaican for a day. I'd embrace all the Jamaican stereotypes and it would be a great excuse to listen to lots of great reggae and embrace rastafarianism for a full 24 hour period. I could wake up real early. First I'd do some rasta praying, and then I'd listen to Peter Tosh, or maybe some King Tubby, I could have a meal of Jerk Chicken and drink Red Stripe. It' would have to be in the summer and I could chill near some water. It would be a good day.

Anyway, I was getting all political and serious about it abstaining from St. Patty's Day this year. It's kinda been a theme with the quitting smoking and all the masochism of my fitness regimen. But as I was driving home from work, I started to think about a Guinness. So I bought a few, then as I was walking up to the house, I thought that it's uncharacteristic of an Irishman to be an oversensitive stick in the mud. The Irish in me (or something, anyway) was seeing the mostly harmless fun that St. Patty's Day is. Even if the Irish take a little ribbing, it's all in love. A truer Irishman than I would have a sense of humor, ferchrissakes!

So I raise this second Pint to you, dear reader:

May your glass be ever full
May the roof over your head be always strong,
And may you be in heaven Half an hour before the devil knows you're dead.

Sláinte!