Happy St Patty’s Day

March 17, 2006

St Patrick’s day. Guinness and The Dubliners. I’m thinking about the lyrics to some of these songs, because I’m actually listening to them for once. Weila Weila Weile — the hell is this song actually about? I just realized tonight that it’s probably about a woman killing her own baby with a pen knife and throwing it in a river. Yeah. Then she’s hung for it. The Dubliners sing this with an entire crowd doing the chorus like it’s an age old family tune to warm the heart or something. And that’s why I love them. Irish folk music offers some of the best songwriting & lyricism around. They don’t just write songs about love or broken hearts — their songs are stories about death, famine, war, prison, robbery, betrayal, and getting drunk. Sure, you have songs like Black Velvet Band, about your love for a woman and how she destroyed your life, but it’s also about being sent to prison for seven years because you were holding a pocketwatch that wasn’t yours. That’s Irish.

One of my favorites is Seven Drunken Nights, which is about coming home to find your wife in bed with another man. Your wife denies everything, even the man lying in bed next to her. She knows you’re drunk and can’t see straight, so she claims her lover’s boots are Geranium pots, his coat is a blanket, his pipe a tin whistle, and his hands on her tits are just a nightgown… and only an Irishman could get drunk enough to see any of that. So, here’s to them and their green hills that I wish I could walk on again.

And here’s a joke worthy of the day:

Paddy Murphy is sitting at the pub drinking his Guinness when in strolls a drunken man. The drunk takes a seat, turns to Paddy and says, “Your mom is the best fuck in town.”

Paddy says nothing and continues to sip his drink. The drunk continues, “I just fucked your mom eight ways to Sunday. She was begging for more.”

The entire bar is hushed, waiting for Paddy to snap and beat the man. Paddy says nothing and continues to drink his Guinness.

“This is how I fuck your mom,” says the drunk, swaying against the bar. “She likes to fuck like a dog.”

Paddy has enough. He pounds down his drink and turns to the drunk.

“Go home,” he says. “You’re drunk again, Dad.”

Anyway, on to non-Irishy things. I’m not a really a big Southpark fan, but I thought it was worthy of noting that Isaac Hayes, a follower of the Church of Scientology, decided to quit his job as the voice of Chef due to “bigotry” not long after the episode that made fun of Scientology. Big surprise.

Again, I don’t watch South Park, so big deal — but fuck Isaac Hayes. Fuck him and Scientology. I don’t think most people really know what Scientology is all about. It’s very deceiving. I, for instance, assumed that Scientology was based around… you know… science. I figured it was some sort of spirituality that was based around reasoning, or fact, if that’s possible. The idea that the universe is an infinite expanse and that we know very little about life and that maybe there’s a god or something, kind of like the opposite of the bible. That’s not what it is, though. It’s a religion based around the souls of dead aliens who shoot out of Volcanos, and some other evil aliens, and 747’s flying around in space. I’m not shitting you — especially not about the 747 thing. That part cracked me up, because they’re totally serious. Here’s an artist rendering of the alien space shuttles L Ron Hubbard speaks of:
See? I wish they’d call it Alienology or 747-in-spaceology or something better — something that would give your average person an idea of what it was actually about. Instead, you hear “science” & “Tom Cruise” and figure it might be something new, radical, intelligent. Oh, how wrong you’d be.

You’d either have to be a crackhead or a puppet following the Hollywood herd in order to keep appearances to ever even think about signing up. My guess is that Tom Cruise is just a crackhead, and the rest of the actors fall into the puppet category. They must have seen him jumping around on couches and screaming about it or something, and they decided to become members themselves. But who really knows. All I know is that it helps solidify my belief that religion is garbage for the weak.

Links of the day:

1. I have to commend this man on his ambition. He types in the drink he wants and the computer spits it out for him. Neat. At the same time…why bother? Constructing a computerized bar is cool, but when it gets destroyed because you’ve vomitted your fancy robot-mixed drinks all over it, you’re likely to be a little upset. I say just do it the old fashioned way — open the fucking bottle and let ‘er rip. The beauty of drinking is that it isn’t complicated.

2. My favorite part in the following video is when he pulls out the two berettas from his back like John McClane in Die Hard. Yippee Kiyay motherfuckers. I would have hated this crap when I was in school, but I guess it does sort of prove a point:

3. Last but not least, while our senior citizens here in Florida can’t drive or vote worth a shit, they can pump iron like nobody’s god damn business, so think twice about assaulting them. Plus, they have huge, weird old tits like this woman, and nobody wants to be tackled by that.


TITUSVILLE, Fla. — Police say three robbers were armed and dangerous, but a 5-foot-1-inch grandmother-to-be was tougher.

Iris Davis, 62, of Cocoa, tackled one of three fleeing robbery suspects after a chase and crash in Canaveral Groves on Wednesday.

Davis is a state champion bodybuilder.

“I love to work out. I love the way it makes me feel,” Davis said. “I was born to compete.”

Three robbery suspects led police on a 75-mph chase that ended in a crash in front of the business Davis manages.

“I just couldn’t let the guy get away,” she said.

3 Responses to “Happy St Patty’s Day”

  1. Matt Says:

    Well friend, I spent my night in an irish pub. I actually heard that one song you mentioned about the irish guy coming home drunk and finding his wife in bed with another man. They had some live band there and they played that. Kinda funny to hear the whole bar yelling “HEY WIFE”

    That joke made me laugh. Good show.

    The computerized bar link does not work though, I kinda wanted to check that out.

  2. DBW Says:

    I was actually going to blog something about Isaac Hayes and how much of a fucking hypocrite he is, but I just havent had the time, and since you beat me to it, whats the point now? But I feel I must point out his douchbaggery: when SP did a show about Catholics and the pedophile priests, Isaac cashed a check and didnt say a word. When SP did a show on Mormons and how the religion was created – which comes in second for “youre shitting me, right?” – he cashed a check and said nothing. Cartman forming a Christian rock band. A parody of “Passion Of The Christ.” The teaming of all the religios icons to form “The Super Best Friends.” Jesus as a main character, and resident of, South Park. Kyle, a Jew whos continually mocked since episode one. The statue of The Virgin Mary squirting menstrual blood onto the face of the Pope. Jesus boxing Satan. Jesus fighting Santa. On, and on, and on it went, and Mr Hayes said nothing and cashed his big ass paycheck. Life was good, until his “religion” was made fun of in season 9. Nine years later, then – and ONLY then – did SP become bigots and intolerant. I hate people like him, and I think I shall blog this afterall.

    Here are my two favorite parts of Scientology. 1) “The hundreds of billions of captured thetans were taken to a type of cinema, where they were forced to watch a “three-D, super colossal motion picture” for 36 days.” HAHA. Not just a 3D movie, but a super colossal one. I cant wait until they open a super colossal 3D theater in my town. That will be so cool. 2) While researching Scientology, Hubbard wrote to his wife “I’m drinking lots of rum and popping pinks and greys” and his assistant said he “was existing almost totally on a diet of drugs.” No fucking shit! Whoda thunk it?

    And lastly, that grandma, who lives in TITusville has hard nipples. Very disturbing,

  3. DBW Says:

    Two men were sitting next to each other at a bar.
    After a while, one guy looks at the other and says, “I can’t help but think, from listening to you, that you’re from Ireland.”
    The other guy responds proudly, “Yes, that I am!”
    The first guy says, “So am I! And whereabouts from Ireland might you be?”
    The other guy answers, “I’m from Dublin, I am.”
    The first guy responds, “Sure and begora, and so am I! And what street did you live on in Dublin?”
    The other guy says, “A lovely little area it was, I lived on McCleary Street in the old central part of town.”
    The first guy says, “Faith, it’s a small world, so did I! So did I! And to what school would you have been going?”
    The other guy answers, “Well now, I went to St. Mary’s of course.”
    The first guy gets really excited and says, “And so did I. Tell me what year did you graduate?”
    The other guy answers, “Well, now, let’s see, I graduated in 1964”.
    The first guy answers, “The Good Lord must be smiling down upon us! I can hardly believe our good luck at winding up in the same bar tonight. Can you believe it – I graduated from St. Mary’s in 1964 my own self.”
    About this time, Colleen walks into the bar, sits and orders a beer.
    Brian, the bartender, walks over to Colleen, shaking his head and mutters,
    “It’s going to be a long night tonight!
    Colleen asks, “Why do you say that Brian?”
    “The O’Kelly twins are drunk again.”

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