Salamu
To Be Sure To Be Sure. Allow me this
opportunity to wish all of me Irish fan base a Pre Happy St Patrick’s Day.
I have always liked the Irish as one
of the better people from the British Isles. Their brashness and blatant
honesty are virtues that I admire and feel that every person should look for in
a friend. I would even go so far as to say that everybody needs at least one
Irish friend.
Before we go into the happenings on
St Patrick’s Day let’s have a brief look at the life of the man. He was born in
Britain to a very pious family. His village was attacked by Irish slavers and
he was taken to Ireland where he spent some time. In a dream God told him to
make his way to the coast where he could go back to Britain which he did.
In another dream a man came to him
bearing letters imploring him to come back to Ireland, which he did. He then
proceeded to convert the pagan Celts to Christianity. Then he died.
I purposely gave the remix version
of events because I am no expert on the man and there is a far more
comprehensive account of his life on the bastion of modern
information…Wikipedia.
One of the popular legends is that
St Patrick chased all of the snakes out of Ireland. This happened when he
chased them into the sea after they were attacking him during a 40-day fast he
was undertaking on top of a hill. It is true that there are no snakes in
Ireland, but research shows that this absence extends far beyond the presence
of St Patrick to the glacial period. So there were no physical snakes for St
Patrick to banish.
Therefore, the banishing of the
snakes from Ireland is a metaphorical representation of St Patrick converting
the pagan Celts to Christianity.
So, it would be logical that the
perfect way to celebrate St Patrick’s day would be to go to Church, and in an
ideal world this would be the case. However, as I have pointed out before, we
don’t live in an ideal world.
So let’s look at the reality of the
situation then. To the rest of the world St Patrick’s day is a day to get
absolutely hammered on drinking that vile drink known as Guinness and that beer
which is not really a beer… Kilkenny. Most certainly Irish pub songs will be
sung on such a day and there is a strong possibility of a fight breaking out.
There is a popular saying that the
whole world is Irish on St Patrick’s Day, and while this is a nice thought to
cling onto, some places really practice it. In Chicago, the locals color the
water of the Chicago River green with vegetable coloring. There are St Patrick’s
day parades in many countries including Canada, Japan and Mother Russia.
I suppose we all like to identify
with the Irish carefree way of life, a life where any problem can be sorted out
with a pint of Guinness and a fight. This is attributable to the Irish sense of
humor. So I will leave you with two of my favorite Irish jokes.
The Reverend John Fluff was the
pastor of a small town in Ireland.
One Sunday, after a riviting
service, he was walking down the high street when he noticed a young lady
of his congregation sitting in a pub
drinking beer.
The Reverend wasn't happy. He walked
through the open door of the pub and
sat down next to the woman.
"Miss Fitzgerald", he said
sternly. "This is no place for a
member of my congregation. Why don't
you let me take you home?"
"Sure", she said with a
slur. Right after ye ave a drink wif me.
So they had the drink and stood up
to go home. Obviously very drunk, when Miss Fitzgerald stood up from the bar,
she began to weave back and forth. The Reverend realized that she'd had far too
much to drink and grabbed her arms to steady her.
When he did, they both lost their
balance and tumbled to the floor. After rolling around for a few moments, the
Reverend wound up on top of Miss Fitzgerald, her skirt hitched up to her waist.
The pub landlord looked over, grabbed
his shelangly and stormed across from behind the bar.
"Oi mate, we won't have any of
that carrying on in this pub."
The Reverend looked up at the
landlord and said,
"But you don't understand. I
know this woman, I'm Pastor Fluff."
The landlord nodded and said,
"Oh well, if you're that far in, you might as well finish."
The second joke also involves Pastor
Fluff.
A few months later Pastor Fluff fell
on hard times and is forced to sell his beloved horse.
He explains to the new owner,
"Remember now, you say, "Praise the Lord" to go and
"Amen" to stop."
"Okay, I've got it!" the
new owner says.
The owner goes to the pub and gets
hammered. He comes out and wants to go home. He gets of the horse and says,
"Giddap" to no result.
"Oh yeah, Praise the Lord"
he says, and the horse starts off.
The horse starts to gallop and the
owner is fast approaching a cliff.
"Stop, Whoa, Fecken Stop, Oh
Lord what am I supposed to say? Ah yes!"
"AMEN!"
The horse stops an inch from the
edge of the cliff.
The owner wipes his brow, looks over
the cliff and sighs, "Praise the Lord".
Mei jua daima kuwa kabla yenu, na
vivuli nyuma yako!
