A Little Ireland For The Soul


Saint Patrick’s day has brought out the alcoholic in everyone. Shockingly my own inner alcoholic has decided she wants to stay home and not move. My liver doesn’t realize the bullet it has dodged by my taking a break from the Mediocre joviality for today.

I never have really celebrated Saint Patrick’s day in all honesty- the tacky figure of a leprechaun posted everywhere has succeeded more in warding me off, than inviting me to partake in festivities around my city or with friends.

I mean seriously, what kind of creepy face is this?

That guy looks like he is on LSD while looking up a woman’s skirt.

Nope, those pictures don’t do it for me.

Saint Patty’s day I have found comforting in only one way, and you other critics should maybe cut it a tiny bit of slack (not a lot) for the following reasons:

When I see an old man on a motorized scooter and an oxygen tank, but he’s wearing a bright lime green St. Patty’s day hat… do you really want to crap on the one fun thing he has going on in that moment?

We celebrate these holidays to give ourselves a break from the nothingness of routine, regardless of our heritage. We drink and slur a terrible Irish accent because, why not finally be doing something fun during a bleak time of year? The only expectation today is that you drink. No gifts, no heartfelt cards, no awkward family dinners, just have a drink.

Saint Patrick was British, and was kidnapped by Irish pirates at the age of 14, and enslaved to them where he herded sheep. He escaped when he was 20, and returned home to Britain for a few years where he also, was required to herd sheep (I’m kidding I have no idea if he herded sheep in England, but the thought made me laugh). He claimed visions and prayers saved him from the whole ordeal, and one particular vision drew him back to Ireland to convert the population of pagans and druids to Christianity. He used to use shamrocks to explain the Holy Trinity over his 40 years of converting Ireland, but I doubt he could’ve predicted Hallmark’s exploitation of his favorite teaching tool. Maybe if he knew that, he’d have picked a different weed.
Personally, I think the pagans and druids had a good thing going before his insertion of a new religion, but no one can say no to a man with a British accent.

Whether the drinking in Ireland grew worse because of Saint Patrick or improved, that is not clear. What we do know, is that after being forced to a Catholic mass by my parents, I feel the need to shamefully knock down a few drinks of my own.

So though it isn’t a favorite day of mine, and I don’t recommend heading anywhere near a bar today, I understand the need to enjoy a holiday where for once we don’t have to stress about the strings attached. Unless a ginger pulls up in a van and says he has a pot of gold for you. Then you can bet your lucky charms you better be a little stressed. He doesn’t want you to herd sheep, I promise.

So cheers, and may no creepy leprechauns haunt your dreams!


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