b Papa Dog's Blog: Green Day

Papa Dog's Blog

A Thing Wherein I Infrequently Write Some Stuff

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Green Day

I may be missing some of the finer theological points here, but my understanding of the whole St. Patrick’s Day deal is that back in Olden Times, this fellow Patrick drove all the snakes from Ireland, and because some of those snakes had been barring the way to certain important beer buckets and poitín stills, his day has been celebrated ever since by happy throngs getting shithammered on serpent-free potables and libations. There’s something in the legend too about converting pagans or something, but that tends to slip the mind after the first few drops of the juice of the barley. At any rate, this is the day when we Caledonians raise glasses of good cheer in honour of our Hibernian cousins, and are generally moved somewhere around closing time to cry out that maybe there’s something in this Papist business after all. Of course, we wake chagrined in the morning and spend the day pinching pennies extra hard (to say nothing of closing mills and foreclosing on orphans), but for the one night a bonhomie and good fellowship cuts across all cultural and religious divides* and a merry time is had by all.

Accordingly, I plan to stay home and watch a movie tonight.

Well, not precisely. I’m actually going to be at a party, but one of the key elements is me watching a movie. We ended up with a bunch of leftover Irish beer after the last poker game. Mama Dog said to me, “Do we have any plans for St. Patrick’s Day?” I said, “Well, I thought maybe I’d watch Miller’s Crossing,” that being what I’ve done on St. Pat’s, more often than not, since 1991. It’s been working well for me for almost fifteen years. Why change now? “I thought maybe we could invite some people over to finish this beer,” said Mama Dog. “Huh,” I said. “Maybe we could do both?” So Mama Dog sent out an Evite inviting people over to drink beer and whiskey and watch me watch Miller’s Crossing. Personally, I’d suggest cutting out the middleman and watching the movie itself, but whatever lends properties of flotation to your seagoing vessel. The tale grew in the telling; we had maybe eight or ten leftover beers, and now we have a headcount of thirteen adults and three infants confirmed for the party. Mama Dog went out and bought beer for a party initially conceived as a means to get rid of beer. I shall refrain from a critique of the logic of this endeavour.

When Mama Dog went out to stock up today, we looked at the headcount, and ruled out the ones (like myself) who loathe beer, multiplied by the square of the hypotenuse, and came up with the correct number to purchase. “Maybe some people will want to watch the movie instead of drink,” said Mama Dog. “Well, I plan to do both at the same time,” I said. The two activities are not, after all, mutually exclusive.

And tomorrow I’ll talk about the movie.
*Excepting perhaps those that explicitly forbid the consumption of alcohol.


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