Erin Go Bragh
Now that a week has passed since the feast day of Saint Patrick, I feel I should explain my hatred for the American celebration of St. Paddy's Day. First off, you should know that my name is Michael Patrick Wilson; I am only 1/4 Irish, but because of my ruddy face, quick temper, middle name, and fierce Catholicism, I seem more. All the Irish comes from my mother's side (my grandmother's maiden name was Phalan and she's pure Mick); from time to time my father (pure black-and-tan, that one) will make little jabs at the Irish, which actually bothers my mom. Yes, many of my ancestors were the bastard English, but that is in no way my fault and doesn't equate to me loving Ireland any less. I love Ireland. And it is precisely because I love Ireland that I dread March 17th.

Several years ago, I was sitting at a restaurant with Alber, waiting for his despicable girlfriend and Never Girl to arrive. Both Alber and I were sipping pop, but the girls ordered drinks. As Alber's Wench, a fair-skinned girl of largely German extract, took a drink of her green beer, she said, "I wish I was Irish." Someone please explain to me what drinking a green Budweiser at Chile's (or some such place, I forget exactly which) has to do with being Irish. What does drinking at nine in the morning have to do with being Irish? What do leprechauns and four-leaf clovers have to do with being Irish? Let's think about this: would it be acceptable behavior for me to start drinking as soon as the sun comes up; wear a plastic red, black, and green hat; and say, "I wish I was African"? Would an appropriate celebration of Japanese culture be to drink dyed red American beer and put up funny little caricatures of oni all over the walls? What does dying Chicago's river green have to do with the Troubles?

Do you know how the Irish celebrate St. Patrick's Day? They go to Mass and say thanks to the possibly mythical St. Patrick for introducing Chritianity to the Emerald Isle. It is a religious observance and a day to reflect on the hardship and suffering that lead to independence for the Republic of Ireland. I would love for St. Patrick's Day in America to be such a day, a day of genuine appreciation for everything the Irish have brought to this country. But as it currently stands, St. Paddy's Day is an accepted and institutionalized mocking of the Irish, a blonde joke on a national scale. If you celebrate St. Patrick's Day in such a way, you're no friend of mine and I want nothing to do with you.

And if you must mindlessly conform and celebrate that vapid holiday, for Bog's sake at least do so with a Guinness! Or a Harp. Harp would be acceptable.