Friday, March 17, 2006

Its Happy Hour in Ireland (seriously)

It just hit Happy Hour in ireland about 15 minutes ago.

The parade outside has been going on since I woke up TWO hours ago.

Warren Ellis has asked not to be emailed about today, but if you do I bet he'll send you a Humoros Prize. Possibly involving semtex.

I generally don't pay much attention to St. Patty's Day. My one concession to recognizing that it even exists is, typically, watching Boondock Saints and drinking some Irish beer. This year its Guinness, because while in the UK I was introduced to HOW you pour Guinness, and the beer suddenly was actually palatable, and actually pretty damn good.

So there's a bottle of Harp and a can of Guinness in my fridge. There's also a green pear, and the only clean shirt I have today is the color of a dead cocktail olive. These are my concessions to this most drunk of days.

It doesn't appear that the parade has moved onto the Irish Rovers yet. When they start ringing out "Come Day, Go Day" I think I might start paying attention. They've somehow, however, managed to go through god-only-knows how many renditions of "Too Ra Loo Ra Loo Ra", which when you think about it actually sounds like some form of ancient Egyptian sun ritual.

Now they're doing "What Do You Do With a Drunken Sailor". Sounds like the Great Big Sea rendition. Which is actually pretty good.

If they stay on the same album they'll eventually hit "Irish Paddy", which for those who don't know is all about a shifty footed Irishman who goes to New York, goes into a bar, refuses to pay his tab, and kills the landlord when he's told to pay up. Then the Americans chase him around, but then Paddy runs into some Irishmen who figure out whats going on, and the Irishmen chase the Americans away.

Moral of the story? So long as a signifigantly large crowd of your countrymen are nearby, you can get away with murder.

...I'm being really cynical, aren't I? Its because the Bard hasn't eaten yet. He's hungry and dehydrated. ANd will fix that soon.

Excelsior.

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