My brother asked me what I was doing on this St. Patricks Day and I think he was taken aback by my violent repugnance of the day.
It is coming up to that time of year again – everyone goes green and guzzles gallons of Guinness. Time for my all new tirade against celebrating this sham of a day. Are you ready? Here goes…
Saint Patrick – what does he represent?
Celebrating this Christian day implies a belief that underneath it all, there is a kind of God that protects Ireland and that it was a good thing that a Welsh monk came over the water 1600 years ago and began proclaiming the world of Christianity.
But what does it mean to celebrate this day then? Surely you can just be a proud Irish person and enjoy celebrating what makes us uniquely ourselves? Well, drill down a little and see what is inherent in celebrating this day.
Whether you like it or not, you are rejoicing the patronage and protection of the biggest business in the world – the Roman Catholic Church. Implicit in your acknowledgement of St. Patrick’s achievements is a reverence for the Pope and the gaggle of paedophiles he protected until he “retired” a few weeks ago. The next one will be equally as fucking ignorant of the reality of real people.
Whether you like it or not, celebrating St. Patrick’s Day means more than going to your favourite bar and dancing jigs, slurping Jameson and singing rebel songs that you only know the words to the verse of – but it doesn’t matter coz you are so locked and hyper happy drunk.
Whether you like it or not, St. Patricks Day is a Catholic celebration which means that being gay is a sin, that you have no rights as a woman to chose an abortion, that Jesus is the physical entity who was born of a virgin and existed as the son of God and that the church, who still rule Ireland, are a good institution who are to be revered and honoured in your own way.
Whether you like it or not.
Whether you like it or not, the majority of Irish will get drunk on Paddy’s day, conforming to type, conforming to the institutionalised melodrama that has beset our nation over the last two hundred years.
Paddy’s all over the planet will congregate and get blissfully intoxicated and recall the old days, dream with misty eyes of the ancients who paved the way for their freedoms and spoils which they enjoy on this day.
Glass after glass will be raised in honourful “slaintes” to the heroes of today and yesterday.
Now, whether you like it or not, this will happen.
And when the multitudes awaken on the morning after, with sore heads and scrambled brains and empty pockets, what will have changed?
Who will have addressed the state of our once proud nation? Who will call attention to the incredible onslaught our former sovereign state faces against the bankers and the European controlled elitist government? Who will have the stomach for that kind of thing?
The answer is a small few hundred who are doing it anyway.
Whether you like it or not, getting blind drunk and whiling away the days is a form of control which we administer to ourselves. Whether you like it or not, our country is being robbed from our very people and the majority vacillate from pub to job, to off-licence, to home, to dole queue hoping that someone else will figure things out.
The drink culture in Ireland is used so we ignore the pain and the truths about reality. There is nothing rebellious or crazy about it.
Whether you like it or not, being Irish is not about drink. Whether you like it or not, celebrating St. Patricks day does not mean you are more Irish than the next person.
So when you are screaming the last verse of “Sean South of Garryowen”, with a pint splashing around one hand and whiskey in the other, some diddle di dee music thumping through your ears, spare a thought for the bitter, sober souls sitting at home wishing they had a “kiss me I’m Irish” girl under their oxter.
Whether you like it or not, you are just conforming to type.