O'bligatory St. Patty's Day Blog, or the baring of my spleen

Top o'tha mornin to ya, and all that crap.

Every frikkin-body is Irish today. Yeah, sure whatever. I have an O'Zelinsky and an O'Vemupalli that I would love for you to meet, and someone named O'Shutthehellup. St. Patrick's Day has become a farce of its original meaning. It is now the drunken frat party equivalent of a holiday. Everybody will be drinking a pint of Guinness today and the marketing arm of the Irish stout will undoubtedly declare it to be "Brilliant!" On a side note: Why does Harp get no love? It is a good beer, but completely overshadowed by it's opaque cousin.

I went past a local pub on the way to work this morning. "Kegs and Eggs at 8 am. Happy St. Patrick's Day!" Huh? Kegs and Eggs? as a celebration? How odd, especially since it was not even an Irish pub. It was an English pub. ENGLISH!!!! The English hate the Irish for their lack of being in the United Kingdom, and they hate the Northern Irish for being associated with the "other" Irish. The Scots hate the Irish ("If it's not Scottish.... It's Crap!"). They consider the Irish to be a bunch of kilted wannabes. Oddly, my ancestry is predominantly Scotch-Irish (is that a kind of tape with alcohol in it?), so I am in a constant state of inner turmoil. As an aside, the Welsh are kinda on their own, as usual, making up words with 17 different consonants in them. Different group of folks there, with their odd language. Bunch of weird sheep-herding oddballs.

I mean when St. Patrick drove all the snakes (or as I like to call them druids and Gaelic aristocracy with serpentine rope work tattoos, or "snakes." You know potato: potato {mmm potato....}) out of Ireland, it was cause for celebration of Ireland's freedom from autonomy, right? Woo-hoo, let's get drunk!