Mood:
Topic: Holidays
I am not wearing green. I refuse. If asked why I'm not wearing any green today, I point to a button I'm wearing instead, and say "Read that." The button says "It's only funny until someone loses an eyeball. Then, hey! Free eyeball!" It doesn't explain, but it makes them wonder.
I'm not eating corned beef and cabbage. I have no clue why this is traditional. I'll look it up, if I suddenly begin to care why, but for now, I suppose it makes as much sense as dying eggs in order to celebrate the ascension of Christ. They are serving corned beef and cabbage at my place of enslavement, and I am certain that the methane levels in the workplace will be quite elevated very shortly. I'm having a Philly cheesesteak sandwich, with tomatoes, but no cheese. It's much more yummy than corned beef.
I'm certainly not drinking green beer. True Irishpersons don't drink beer that is light enough in color that you could make it turn green anyway. They drink Guinness, because, unlike American beer drinkers, they are familiar with real beer. And while I approve of a holiday which started out with religious overtones degenerating into a night dedicated to the imbibement of fermented grains (replete with the inevitable inebriation resultant of those activities), it generally turns the holiday into an excuse for drinking beer. So it's a lot like bowling, except there's no pins and no bowling balls. Saint Patrick's Day apparently is a night where you have an excuse to drink beer all night everywhere, not just in bowling alleys, and also to wear green without people calling the fashion police. I bet even Carson Kressley would turn a blind Queer Eye to green pants today.
Sometimes, there's parades. I have no idea why. To me, a St. Patrick's Day Float should mean mint ice cream in a glass of Guinness. And since I hate mint, that pretty much kills the concept for me.
It started as a celebration of one man's martyrdom (which is a pretty grim thing to celebrate), because he drove snakes out of Ireland that were never in Ireland in the first place (but you can't be a saint without a miracle, right?), and brought Christianity to a bunch of people that didn't want it.
I'm part Scottish. I don't wear a kilt. I'm also part German. I don't wear lederhosen. I'm part Polish. I haven't eaten kielbasa in literally years. I'm part Native American. I don't do rain dances. And I'm part Irish. I don't celebrate St. Patrick's Day.
Not because I don't participate in religious celebrations... I do participate in some religious celebrations, although for other than theistic reasons. It's not because St. Patrick's Day doesn't make sense (it doesn't, but I can't understand the tax laws and I still pay). I don't celebrate St. Patrick's Day because I don't like beer... and that's all it means any more. Oh, sure. You can give the whole driving snakes out and bringing Christianity to Ireland all the lip service you want. But you're not fooling anyone. It's all about the beer.
So remember; if you're getting a prescription filled tomorrow morning, or your taxes done, or your hair cut... it might just be done by a person that last night was painted green and pouring beer on their own head while standing on a table singing "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling" and exposing themselves, and still have a minor buzz or a nasty hangover.
Maybe you better wait until next week.
Posted by roguespidor
at 10:58 PM EST
Updated: Friday, 18 March 2005 12:39 AM EST
float around about that first Thanksgiving. For one thing, if turkeys had been present (doubtful, since they hadn't yet been domesticated and only ran around in the wild), they hid themselves well, oblivious to their future.
It's not the Festival of Samhain, though. That annually recurs at a specific time. But for the definition of All Hallow's Eve, it is in fact the evening before all ground is hallowed. Every day is the day before all ground is hallowed.