So my grandmother’s parents were right off the boat from Ireland. She got hit in the head with a rock when she was a kid by some smelly Protestant who called her a “dirty rotten Irish Catholic.” This apparently justified giving me five bucks when I broke up with my Jewish girlfriend 60 years later. Though, to be fair, she later regretted her decision and told me, “You know, Christ was a Jew.” I kept the five bucks.
Why did I tell you that? Because Irish Americans are rivaled only by the Italians in pride of their heritage. The Latvians and the Polish and all the other Euro communities can screech all they want, but they don’t have the stroke of the Irish. And the Italians have to deal with the “terrifying mobster” stigma. All the Irish have is drunken wife beating which usually only occurs at home and rarely has movies or TV shows made about it.
But on St. Patrick’s Day, everyone gets to be drunk. That’s really the point of it. I mean, there are parades. I have one down below (which is awesome btw) from Havana, Cuba. But how many old white guys and pale kids can you look at all in a row? For me, I found out the answer is seven…in any combination.
So why do the Irish get such good press? Why are they (and, I guess, partly me) so lovable? Well, I guess if you look angelically up from the floor, with the strings of puke connecting your cheek to the puddle beneath you like rainbows, who wouldn’t be charmed by your child-like innocence, especially if you are missing a tooth and bleeding from one ear? Who could read a lot of Samuel Beckett and not feel the joy of…well, anyway. You can’t expect a lot from a people whose most famous mode of dancing relies on not moving your arms or upper body in any way.
Also, the Irish were not really all that persecuted. I’m starting to doubt if my Nana got hit with that rock at all… I mean, the song I have linked below, No Irish Need Apply, is about how the Irish were discriminated against. Except they weren’t. Nobody can find a single instance of the No Irish Need Apply sign anywhere. Doesn’t make the song less bad ass, though! After the jump, I sort of ease up on my people and there’s that cool Cuban bagpipe video!
So after I figured out how to put in the mp3 (Thanks, Beans!) I realized I’m being a little hard on the Irish. I mean, I was more than happy to sit in a bar from 10:00 am til closing and not know that there was a huge snowstorm in the intervening time one St. Patrick’s Day. And yeah, I’ve been puked on. And I mean during…intimate moments. And you know, if your whole race were known for its complete lack of athletic ability and small dicks, you’d drink a lot too. So, go ahead, people. Overcompensate! And pass the Jameson’s. Did you know Jenna Jameson named herself after the whiskey? Sounds better then Jenna Wild Turkey, doesn’t it?
Cuban St. Patrick’s Day Parade. I don’t think they get it but whatever. It’s awesome.
House of Pain: Jump Around. It’s sort of a requirement. God Bless Larry Bird.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day. Drunk idiots.