An open letter to the Irish
Dear Irishmenandwomen of New Orleans:
Please stop celebrating now.
Don’t get me wrong, I love you guys. You’re always good for a joke or a drink or a joke about drinking. And baby, no one has looked that good in green since Tawny Kitaen.
But yo, seriously, cut it out.
Your parades, they’re all over the place. Everywhere I go, every backstreet I take to avoid you, I turn the corner, and you’re there. It’s a little like Aliens, but with green beer.
And your music at these parades–where’s the “Danny Boy”? Where’s the Clannad? Where’s the U2, for freakincrissake? All I hear is Lionel Richie, and honey, he may be black, but he ain’t black Irish.
I’m asking you nicely, now. St. Paddy’s Day is over and done. Please give me back my life and my streets and my regular, horse piss-colored beer. Don’t make me come out there with my tam-o-shanter and my cudgel–I’ll go totally druidic on your asses. I mean it.
Sincerely,
A Partially Irish American Who’s Totally Over It
sturtle [dot] com 