Erin go bragh, my friends. Tir na nog. Slainte. Rira. Fado. These are all Irish words – a near dead language that sounds like a deaf man trying to say the n word. These are also the only Irish words I know, and the only reason I know them is because they’re what people name their shitty hiberno-ethanol theme bars when they want to attract American shitheads who are proud of some distant heritage they can name but can’t define. It’s St. Patrick’s Day, and for the American Irish, that means it’s the one day out of the year where you can blame your alcoholism on murky genetics and the church. Go nuts, micks, you’ve earned it.
But while you’re out there vomiting green and paying homage to the patron saint of… snakes or something… it’s important that you remember that the Irish are the very worst kind of white people, and the esprit-du-St.-Paddy’s-Day should be one of mockery – not so much celebration. Get drunk because you hate yourself, not because you’re proud of your heritage, please.
Now some of you might think that’s racist. It’s not. It’s literally impossible to be racist towards the Irish. They’re the reason we had to stop doing racism. They abused the privilege of racism. They ruined it for everyone and now they’re taking racism away from all white people – like a tambourine ripped out of the hands of a special needs child, just because of the Irish.
When asked to define the most racist aspect of the Civil War, many would provide the knee-jerk response of slavery. While slavery is definitely very racist, it’s not the most racist thing that happened during the civil war. No, it was the Draft Day Riots, in which a bunch of pissed off Irish people went into black orphanages and burned the children alive because they didn’t want to join the Army. This was in New York by the way – very far away from the racist south (the racist side of the civil war, unlike the north, which was not racist (except for the Irish)). Hell, I heard earlier this year that one of the Jameson Whisky heirs bought a slave just so he could watch her get eaten by cannibals.
These are not people you should be proud of. Even taking away their shitty behavior – there’s not much you can say for a culture that can be summed up, contained, and branded as a children’s cereal. What do they have going for them? Luck? They’re lucky, supposedly? What the fuck is that worth? Luck is for people that don’t have talent, and if you’re bragging about luck it’s because you’re not good enough to accomplish anything with effort.
And that clover bullshit? Ooh, a-toi-toi. Danny boy, look, it’s our lucky clover! Our precious shamrock it tis!
What the fuck is a clover anyway? Is it a type of weed? And you picked the fucked up clover too? The one with an extra petal? It’s not even a flower. It’s some shit that makes your lawn look bad. Clovers are nature’s lawn jockey, which is probably why the Irish love them so much.
So don’t celebrate the Irish this year folks. Instead of acknowledging a group of people who were almost genocided by potatoes, let’s drink to their mockery and celebrate the English. The English, while still white and racist, are a little bit cleaner than the Irish, and they’ve historically done God’s work in keeping the paddies in check. Cheers, mates!