Don't Kill Any Snakes Today (free post).
St. Patrick actually drove ZERO snakes out of Ireland.
Most snakes are wonderful.
Here’s my Irish-American story:
My fourth-grade teacher, a tall, mean woman named Ms. McKinley, gave us kids the assignment of creating our family tree.
I asked my Dad what his Grandfather did in Ireland. He was reading a book, as he always was, turned to me, irritated, and said: “He was a horse thief”.
I almost shit myself with joy: I was going win this assignment over all the other kids.
Back to class the next day, I wrote in HORSE THIEF on the appropriate line, and turned in my tree.
As she was grading my tree, Ms. McKinley brought it over to my desk and said:
(paraphrase) “ Why are you making a mockery of this assignment, making up fictional bullshit about your family?”
(My tree had an “E” grade on it, equivalent to an “F” in my grade school/)
ME: “It’s the truth! My Dad said so!”
MCKINLEY: Well we’ll see, I’m calling your Father”.
ME: “GO AHEAD HE’LL CUSS YOU OUT!”
DAD (to Ms. McKinley on phone call): “It’s none of your goddamn business what my Grandfather did for a living”.
DAD (to me when I got home): “Who was I supposed to cuss out, Mark?”
I got punished quite a bit as a kid, but I didn’t get punished for this. It wasn’t until years later that Dad revealed that he made up the horse thief horseshit.
I’ve added zero paid subscribers so far this mouth. Thanks for that, freeloaders.
(That’s an annual sub. I will do the above via PayPal.)
OK, here’s my favorite St. Patrick’s Day ad, via Guinness. Plus, another one, via the City of Atlanta, that is a nightmare to watch.
Round up your mates—wonderful. That sheep dog is a hero! Every pub crawl needs a sheep dog. Ad agency: Abbot Mead Vickers/BBDO, London.
My Irish eyes are bleeding.
At least snakes didn't start crawling out of his mouths.
Ad agency: Fitzgerald & Co., Atlanta.