Mamacita says: 
May you be buried in a
casket made from the wood
of a 100 year old oak
That I shall plant tomorrow.
Oh, tis a wondrous thing to be Irish, although the same could not be 
said earlier in our country’s history. Many people do not know how unwelcome the Irish were here, in those days. We’ve since learned wisdom. About the Irish, anyway; some people are still working on wisdom in general.
I loved to read about Beany Malone for so many reasons, some of which were the casual ways their Irish ancestry was a part of their everyday lives. Beany’s cousin Sheila McBride was the also the source of one of my favorite expressions, “pogue ma’ hone.” It means, “the back of my hand to you,” if you’re a classy lady/gentleman, and “kiss my arse” if you’re me you.
What’s a little green water between friends?
This picture is by Tim Nyberg, a fantastic artist who draws awesome things which look even more awesome than they originally looked before he drew them so awesomely. He drew this one for the Wittenburg Door, which is a wonderful thing in and of itself; the site is down right now but you can still see it in its archived glory. (Don’t click the link if the corncob makes you walk funny.)
What is it supposed to be?
Why, it’s St. Patrick driving the snakes out of Ireland, of course.
It was no mean feat, and I should know.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day to you all. If you’re not wearing green, strangers are allowed to pinch you.
What’s that? I can’t hear you. Come a little closer. . . thaaaaat’s right. Gotcha.
I repost this, adding a little here and there and subtracting a little likewise, each March 17, so if it looks familiar to you, you’re not crazy. Well, not about this post, anyway.
Pogue Ma’Hone to you all, for you know why you deserve it even if I don’t. Pick your version.