Sham Rock

Happy St. Patrick's Day!
Today's the day when everyone is Irish, or so they claim.
What the hell is that all about?
Like that shitty pub Fado, the typical St. Patty's Day celebration offends me as a person of Irish descent (and not a slow descent into alcoholism). Is everyone Jewish on Yom Kippur? Is everyone African-American for Kwanzaa? No. But for one day of the year, everyone is Irish. And for many this becomes an excuse to get drunk and act like an asshole. Whether it's riding the (short) bus, a.k.a. the Erin Express, around the city to various drinking establishments, or just puking off the balcony at Fat Tuesday's on South Street, the March 17th Irish are giving the 365-days-a-year Irish a bad name. We have Michael Flatley and the movie Leprechaun* (and its 5! sequels) to do that.

Fuck it. I'm not going to be the party pooper. Enjoy the Irish potatoes (coconuts in Ireland? Did a migrating swallow grip it by its husk, oh forget it), throw on your House of Pain CDs, down your green-tinted Lite, and start a fight. It's St. Patrick's Day.

*Man, I wish I could figure out how to upload pictures to my blog. I have a picture of the Leprechaun that would scare the green piss out of you.