A quick and dirty guide on being more like me… only less dirty
In the spirit of the upcoming Irish holiday commonly referred to as St. Patrick’s Day, I wanted to do a two-parter to celebrate all the Irish crew out there (hands raised: Holla!). I think it’s fair to assume that not many of you are Irish. I don’t care if you’re if your Grandparents knew a guy, who installed your bathtub, and that guy’s dad who ran over a leprechaun one time after a late night bender in Kalamazoo. I’m also not talking about “Well my mom’s side is half Irish, half British (lame), and my dad is white and grossly pale so he must be Irish.” As a side note if any of you think you are Irish, but then say you are also half something else that means that you are not Irish. If your dad is grossly pale without being Irish, he is just sickly and needs to buy some tanning minutes (however if he IS Irish that means the sun trembles at his awesome Irish presence so that explains that).
Being Irish is the equivalent of being a high powered executive in a huge corporation. Sure, when that executive emigrated from Ireland no one wanted to hire him because he was a dirty farmer with no money. But eventually that executive made his way from the bottom to the top by making enough train tracks and buildings to find himself on the good side of life with everyone realizing how awesome his accent was and how not everyone from Ireland was a ginger.
The best way to know that Irish people are the most bomb people is because we have our own pseudo holiday: St. Patrick’s Day. Now, as a child you are born into our holiday by colouring all of you crappy drawings green, you graduate into wearing cheap plastic hats and then finally consuming mass amounts of green beer in your later years (note: Make sure the beer does not turn blue, you traitors). What other country has a holiday as renowned? The best way to showcase this is to compare St. Patrick’s Day to a fake made up holiday like St. Andrew’s Day. St. Patrick rid the town of snakes… Do you know how hard that is? It’s hard enough for Samuel L. Jackson to get rid of them when they’re on planes, never mind crawling all over everything, and getting up in everyone’s biz-nass. St. Andrew? Just a guy with a bank holiday… In Scotland. Case closed!
People think that to be deemed a good Irish you have to drown in beer, that’s untrue, many years I have not drown at all. In fact, you can tell the Irish fakers from the Irish wannabes by who is drinking cheap beer. If you have a Lakeport in your hand, a Lucky, or a Coors Light, it’s like a bullhorn going off in your backpack while trying to steal a diamond from a museum. Way to be discrete, asshole. Real Irish people don’t drink cheap beer -better yet- real Irish people don’t drink LIGHT beer… what is this, a water polo match? If your beer is not thick and rich like a Turkish rug then you are representing the wrong country, sister (you want England).
Something else that needs to be addressed is the clover concept. Every Irish person needs to have a clover with them every day of the year, for good luck. At least one shamrock tattoo is required per Irish person, per 200lbs (for some, additional tattoos will be needed). Luck is important to us, and we prefer to get lucky every day, all day long, and also, we like Barry White on a totally unrelated topic.
So there you have it; a quick and dirty guide on how to be exactly like me. Remember, not all Irish people are as lame as Bono, but you can’t argue with how fantastic that guy looks pulling off a pair of blue John Lennon style retro-chic shades. Don’t forget part of being cool isn’t drinking more than your liver lets you, not everyone can be mechanically built like Keith Richards. So on March 17th get your green Abe Lincoln hats and bust out your “10% Irish, 90% drunk” T-shirts, and go and make me proud.
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