Erin Go Braugh Happy Saint Patrick's Day, the only nationally sanctioned bacchanal in these United States. For those of us who find one to be too many and ten never enough, it's a lonely day. No one likes a sober bloke hanging about when all around people are losing their heads, or giving head in public... So it goes. *Poof* You're a green fairy!
How do I know it's St. Paddy's, you ask? Simple - at six o'dark this morning I was greeted by a television advert for Foxwoods -- that's the closest casino and den of iniquity to these parts, so they advertise heavily, attempting to entice deluded fools to drive 300 miles to lose their pot of gold, don'tcha know? Anyway, this morning the advert jingle was all gussied up to sound like an air from the Southern Counties, and there were Green Munchkins chewing on clay pipes and dancing the English Hornpipe, while an elf with Hollywood's idea of an Irish brogue was telling us all about the "Wonders of it all - Foxwoods" while the little green darlings cavorted through the casino and hotel, drunk and rowdy. It finished up with one of them sleeping it off on a king sized bed, curled in the fetal position, fighting the toxic effects of alcohol poisoning.
All very stirring, I'm sure. So go out and have a good one on me, drink your green beer and wear the color of the Boston and New York idiots who started this celebration down the slippery slope of alcoholism it has become. It is only fitting that Americans would miss the whole import of the event, anyway.
<>
1 comment:
The Irish invented so many reasons to get drunk, we should be gratefull to them all.
"Under the affluence off incohol" as they use to say. Not to mention their whiskeys, as everybody knows are the best and smoothest of the world. Ooooh, that Irish whiskey.
Post a Comment