ST. PADDY'S 2010 AFTERMATH:WHY IRISH GUYS HAVE THE WORLD'S BEST SENSE OF HUMOR
Over the years I’ve participated in some of the most tumultuous St. Paddy’s celebrations on the face of the planet-the kind that put you on the very brink of human survival, but this year was different.
I stayed home and spent six sober hours watching several PBS shows on the Irish culture and it drove me to a simple conclusion-Ireland produces the best sense of humor on the planet.
If you base your perception of Irish guys on shabby stereotypes, pop culture and St. Paddy’s, then the only logical conclusion is that they are the drunken louts of the world-a nation of inebriated brawlers.
Most Irish guys I know see the humor in that perception.
In a true tribute to their Irish “inner humor” guy, they laugh at stereotypical universal profiling that would open up three full-on United Nation inquiries if this involved any other ethnic group.
As a colonial in North America, I’ve always been comfortable around Irish people and I like to think that I understand them better than the average guy on this side of the pond.
Some of this is because I usually get a pass from the Sons of Eire via “me sainted Irish Grandmother”. Nell Maddigan’s family emigrated from Dublin to the United States during the rush- out- of- town known as the Potato Famine. They lived in Detroit and Chicago, but she was born in North Dakota-a stone’s throw away from the border with Canada where she met and married my Grandfather Herb.
The Irish guys that I’ve met over the years have one thing in common-their “Irishness”. It’s something that we (North Americans) make a really sloppy attempt to copy every March 17th, but it never works-even if your parents were born in Ireland.
Simplest reason? If you’re a guy wearing green face paint, a stupid-looking giant green hat and you’re drinking green swill that passes as beer on St. Paddy’s, then you, my friend, are about as genuinely Irish as Lucky Charms cereal.
And… the worst sin of all is this: You’re wearing a beer soaked t-shirt that says “Kiss me I’m Irish”- that’s usually the cleanest version of the text on the shirt.
But that gives these Irish wannabes a reason to slobber all over the babes in some vain misguided attempt to cash in on the Irish gig. Real Irish guys don’t do that because they don’t have to…they get babes all over them as soon as they speak. That Irish accent is like 6 fast shots of tequila to women; especially on St. Paddy’s-these guys turn into rock stars on the 17th of March.
But I know the real problem with St. Paddy’s- it’s me.
I don’t get it, and probably never did, but my Irish cousins do. My 25% Irish colonial perspective holds me back like a North American anchor. Real Irish guys don’t mind the hype and misguided perceptions about their homeland, even if it perpetuates some pretty serious and generally negative stereotypes…
Irish guys don’t mind because they get the big picture-they get to host the biggest global party in the history of celebrations. Even better, they brought Guinness, the world’s greatest beer to the party.
That is the true definition of an accommodating party host.
Irish cats realize a little country like their “Emerald Isle” is punching way above its weight on the world stage and, as we all know, Irish guys don’t mind a decent scrap now and then. When you think about it, their attitude makes sense because, when you are world class in any event, you are a major player.
Don’t believe that? Ask Greece about the Olympics.
So, next year on March 17th, these same true Sons of Eire living in the US and Canada will be out there for another shift- watching colonials get drunk, spill beer and aspire to be IRISH. And they won’t be passing judgment…
Because that’s what these genial hosts of the world’s biggest party do best: they enjoy the ride and make sure everybody has a good time along the way.
