I am not going to detail what happened yesterday here. It was both a terror of the soul and a release from a lot of pain and anguish. The lead-up was the hard part, knowing what had to be done.

Now we go on.

This is a kind-of holiday. St. Patrick is the patron saint of Ireland. He wasn't Irish. He was English or Welsh. Irish people celebrate Paddy because he was instrumental in their religious heritage. He wasn't the only one, though. St Kevin of Glendalough for one should be considered a proper saint for the role, but he was a recluse who loved animals.

The traditional dish for the day has become corned beef and cabbage, boiled to tenderness. Corned beef is made from brisket, which comes from the chest of a steer. It isn't a tender cut. The point here is that it is not a traditional Irish dish. It was instead popularized by the English people who lived in Ireland after it was conquered and the natives were beaten down by the English kings, Cromwell, etc. The Irish people couldn't afford beef. They had few cattle, too. They did have sheep, and their traditional dish was and is Irish stew, made with lamb.

Another one bites the dust.

Green beer is an American thing. No self-respecting Irishman or woman would drink green brew. The traditional brew is, of course, Guinness or some other stout stuff.

In Northern Ireland, green is not a good color to wear. They are not called "Orangemen" for nothing.

The Irish gift of gab has brought many humorous stories to the world. The Irish joke is common. You have to speak the jokes with a good Irish accent or they are not so funny.

Begorah!

I have always called St. Patrick's night "Amateur Night." That's because it is an excuse now for amateur drinkers to get whacked and crash their cars into other people. My ex and I always walked a half mile to an "Irish" bar in Long Beach and walked home afterward. Taxi services in some towns offer free rides on this night. Even paying ten or twenty dollars for a taxi is cheaper than a DUI.

Whatever, be careful and don't be stupid.