While you light beer swilling scullery maids are adding green food coloring to your $2.50 draft beers us real Irish are left with nothing but a Holy of day obligation. Hey but at least us Irish Catholics didn’t have to plead with the pope for a special dispensation because it didn’t land on friday during lent this year so raise your glass to that. But mines filled with single malt Tullemore Dew, I’ll switch to beer later while I am stuffing my face with a nice brisket and some over cooked cabbage to try and quell the impending gas that is sure to follow.
So there are no snakes in Ireland... And today has Nothing to do with snakes. Snakes are a metaphor for the practitioners of pagan religions. St. Patrick, guess what not even Irish, Dude’s British. He was once kidnapped by a bunch Irish guys, so he may have a had a little bit of something to grind. So what does this guy do? That’s right, aligns himself with the most powerful organization in the world during the 4th century The Roman Catholic Church and decides hey I am going to become Priest go back to Ireland and Kick some Celtic ass... Please don’t confuse my use of the term Celtic ass with pedophilia, at this point that hadn’t happened Catholics were to busy force converting people different from them and killing Muslims... So long story short because the ice has melted in my glass and I can finish the single malt off in one gulp now. St. Patrick not Irish, kidnapped by the Irish he’s actually British, Paddy get’s pissed becomes a priest comes back to the Emerald Isle says convert or die you nature worshipping heathens oh and guess what every Sunday you have to give a guy with a funny hat 15% of your gross income not net income, some time passes by the King of England get’s a divorce people start wearing Orange, the Irish and Chinese build the Railroads, The IRA starts blowing up the English, U2, people think it’s cool to celebrate genocide, Bill Clinton-Peace accords.
I am off to take advantage to see if I can some college girls that think they are drunk off Guinness to show me their bare chests. It’s 4.5% alcohol you have to drink at least 8 to get hammered so that half of one you muscled down to try and look impressive probably didn’ do anything for you. No Fat Chicks Please!
Erin Go Bragh Everybody... Sláinte
So there are no snakes in Ireland... And today has Nothing to do with snakes. Snakes are a metaphor for the practitioners of pagan religions. St. Patrick, guess what not even Irish, Dude’s British. He was once kidnapped by a bunch Irish guys, so he may have a had a little bit of something to grind. So what does this guy do? That’s right, aligns himself with the most powerful organization in the world during the 4th century The Roman Catholic Church and decides hey I am going to become Priest go back to Ireland and Kick some Celtic ass... Please don’t confuse my use of the term Celtic ass with pedophilia, at this point that hadn’t happened Catholics were to busy force converting people different from them and killing Muslims... So long story short because the ice has melted in my glass and I can finish the single malt off in one gulp now. St. Patrick not Irish, kidnapped by the Irish he’s actually British, Paddy get’s pissed becomes a priest comes back to the Emerald Isle says convert or die you nature worshipping heathens oh and guess what every Sunday you have to give a guy with a funny hat 15% of your gross income not net income, some time passes by the King of England get’s a divorce people start wearing Orange, the Irish and Chinese build the Railroads, The IRA starts blowing up the English, U2, people think it’s cool to celebrate genocide, Bill Clinton-Peace accords.
I am off to take advantage to see if I can some college girls that think they are drunk off Guinness to show me their bare chests. It’s 4.5% alcohol you have to drink at least 8 to get hammered so that half of one you muscled down to try and look impressive probably didn’ do anything for you. No Fat Chicks Please!
Erin Go Bragh Everybody... Sláinte
-Jim
May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
and rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.
May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
and rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.
I love and miss you Granma.
