This is my least favorite day of the year.

St. Pat’s Day.

A celebration of alcohol abuse.

A parade for IRA terrorists who blow up innocents today over Henry VIII wanting a divorce during The Reformation.

Most of the “Irish” songs you know were written by New York City Jews who had never been to Ireland. Real Celtic music can hardly be classified as music it’s so noisome.

It’s a culture of victimization. Every problem in Ireland and every problem “the niggers of Europe” face is blamed on the bloody British. That’s bullshit, of course, but what do you expect from a culture that lionizes “blarney”?

The epitome of Irish culture is the 1916 uprising. A bunch of drunks, halfwits, poets and musicians talking in pubs over too many pints thought they could take on an army and be backed by the Irish people. They were slaughtered and the Irish people didn’t rise up, they cowered in their hovels.

Don’t get me started on Irish literature. Unreadable crap, in the main. James Joyce saying of Finnegan’s Wake that it took him 30 years to write it so it’s your problem if it takes you 30 years to understand it. What a load of arrogant crap!

Just try telling me that Ireland saved western culture. Yeah, I’ve read that book. Ireland “saves” western culture by being so backward, barbaric and isolated that no one came there to burn down the monasteries where the Irish scribes were trying to copy the books of other European writers. Yeah, that makes me admire the bog hopping, maudlin, mother obsessed drunks of Ireland.

Men who sire a dozen children because contraception is murder get together to build bombs to kill Protestant children because it’s not murder to kill the bloody Brits. Huh?

Don’t think about that, though. Have a green beer and puke in a gutter instead. It’s St. Pat’s Day!