Enero 13, 2004
The Green Tiger is Shitting Shamrock Shakes

I figured out just now that I have some deep-rooted prejudices about the Irish. Not in an immediate or personal way, like "Dude, your last name's O'Malley? There's no fucking way I'm sharing a bar tab with you, guy!" Not like that at all. More on a reductive cultural generalization-based level. I'm pretty upset about it and now that I'm aware of it I think that I can start to work on it. I think it has a lot to do with how much I hate The Pogues and how inconsistent the Irish have been regarding cultural representation over the past 50 years. I hate the Pogues more than any other musical entity that I can think of. The Worst. Plus, a culture that produced most of the key texts of English literary modernism, from Joyce to Flann O'Brien, seems like it should only get better and better but in the past 40 years what have we got? Van Morrison? U2? What....Daniel Day-Lewis? Roddy Doyle? House of Pain? It's like Ireland has imploded into a shitty joke about alcoholism, bigotry, belligerance, tight denim and catholic guilt. It seems a shame to me. Saint Patrick's day is just a giant asshole convention and any day where the guy with the ginger dreadlocks, a celtic rune tattoo up his forearm and a sweat-stained Guinness t-shirt gets to feel like big man on campus is a day that I don't want any part of. It's as though the Irish national identity was hijacked by institutionalized bad taste and an atavistic obsession with an improbable heritage that threatens to throttle anything progressive or substantial produced there.
I realize that these attitudes are partially misinformed and skewed by the fact that Ireland has long been dogged by its own stereotypes and England's continual nose-thumbing or whatever. Maybe it goes further than nose-thumbing, maybe it's the chokehold spectre-tendrils of influence and superiority that England still wields over all countries, minus the United States (which isn't really a country anyway), that share its language (like what the fuck has Australia done for me lately...) that inform my uninformedness. Anyway, I'm going to work on my prejudice and try to prove myself wrong. Where to start?

Posted by at Enero 13, 2004 01:05 PM

Read your little piece de resistance there and had to put fingies to keys. I dont know who the fuck you are nor do I care but excuse my rage for the next little bit. Spent the majority of my evening in unfamiliar territory on College St. and thus one of my reasons for posting. Name here is Monaghan first and foremost and a hug to you for you displacency. Think of the Irish as you like but make sure you introduce yourself to me and some of those ideas if by chance you live and associate with said King on any basis here in our fair city.
Was at a bar tonight called Revival on College St. Went with a handful of friends and had a moderately below average good time. An important side note needing to be injected into the story at this particular point is locale of bathrooms. Basement is the answer, only accesible (I think) via front door. Last call long over, huge line up downstairs for said "mandatory" coat check. I concur why not go to the bathroom (beside coat check) essentially skipping massive line up and all is good. The old I gotta piss routine with crossed eyes works for the first bit but alas enter Mr. Mouth. Calling my bluff as I proceed to pretend he doesnt exist, I pass by and quickly move forward screaming Ex squeeze me EXsquueze me. We establish eye contact one final time, him knowlingly knowing I have the upper hand. Said individual proceeds, after acknowledging my wrong doing and feeling manly, to punch continually my abdomen and weakly attempt a knee to my twig and berries. Irish enters picture. To you Mr. Discourse, not understanding what one in my shoes goes through (obviously not being Irish and all) what do YOU do? What does the so called drunk Irishman by the name of Ryan Patrick Monaghan do I ask thee???? Gather up your thoughts and please do respond to this Leprachan before St. Patrick's Day if you can. La La and happy God's Day.

Posted by: Monster on Enero 18, 2004 04:00 AM .

Good lord man, what did you do?!

Posted by: king on Enero 19, 2004 11:49 AM .

Hey mack, go over again what happened? You wanted to skip the line to the coat check AND take a slash so you figured that you could do both and then some champion asshole started getting all fisticuffs because you were clever enough to figure out how to skip the line? Is that what happened?
I don't know what I"D DO, but probably first of all I wouldn't be at that awful place on a Saturday night. Right.
So what did you do?

Posted by: TheDiscourse on Enero 19, 2004 02:30 PM .

Apologies to the two people who have read my first story as looking back on it, it's not quite as clear as I intended. So a brief recap. On a side note Discourse, it wasnt my idea to attend that establishment but sometimes one has to go with the flow of friends to keep everybody happy. So Revival it was. Last call has passed, all lights are on in the bar. Massive lineup for the coat check. Coat check is downstairs at Revival. Being alone at this point I decide why not go to the bathroom, empty out before a cold walk home and then get my jacket. Brilliant plan I thought. It was working so well too as I made my way past the majority of the line up. And then it happens. Stopped just at the bottom of the stairs by this guy who questions my intentions. I tell him that I am merely going to the bathroom and carry on because duty calls. After relieving myself, I slip into the front of the line, pass in my ticket, and retrieve my source of warmth for the walk home. Now with jacket in hand, I decide to carry it up the stairs just so I wouldnt offend anyone who might have any sort of observational skills and remember the bathroom guy on my way out. Mr. Observant as I shall call him is still on the stairs impatiently waiting as I approach. He says to me; "Hey I thought you were just going to the bathroom?" I respond something like " I was but then I saw the coat check and decided to kill two birds with one stone " type of a response. Seeing Mr. Observant taking this in and struggling internally for some sort of response a smile comes across my face. At this point my eyes have since shifted away from him and have set onto his ladyfriend, who giving her the benefit of the doubt was quite attractive leading me to conclude that perhaps these two were merely hooking up for the night or something. I have given him more than enough time to come up with a response by now, still nothing so I offer up to him, "Its not my fault you arent smart enough to come up with such a plan yourself. A little harder for you mind you as you have a lady friend here to take into consideration." Mr. Observant doesnt like this response especially after it brings quite a smile and a chuckle from his lady friend. A punch to the gut then occurs, followed by a second shot, to which brings us to a weak attempt at kneeing me in the balls. There comes a time when enough is enough in my books, enter my "Irishness". With my hand placed firmly around his neck and his head up against the wall, something weak was said from my mouth to which has no profoundness at all and things subsided and I carried on my way. I left the bar and once outside put on my jacket. There were some people heading to my house that evening for a night cap and I remembered I needed to pick up some toilet paper for any lady that might want to utilize my bathroom that night. I would venture a guess that I was inside the Dominion for the better part of 15 minutes whatwith lineup and the cashier as well as my waiting to buy cigarettes at the counter not manned by any Dominion employee. Leaving I begin my walk eastbound on the south side of College towards Clinton St. Just outside Coco Lezones I feel a tap on my back. Turning around I see Mr. Observant standing in front of me. I look around as he asks me if I have a problem. I am looking for his friends, his lady, a car full of people, something that would put him in front of me at this point in the evening. Seeing nothing of the sort I focus my attention on him. Words are exchanged, he is obviously very offended with the ongoings and feels the need to express himself. There is am inherent trait I have come to realize and grasp with most Irishmen when it comes to temper. I was now starting for the first time that evening to see red if you will. I was cold perhaps, thirsty and in need of another beer perhaps, or just concerned with getting to my place before anyone else arrived there, which brought about me seeing red. And then I almost broke. I half decided it was time and he deserved something. Whats the easy way out of such a situation you ask? Well Discourse its simple. Three easy to follow steps. 1. Spit in his face. 2. Kick to the balls. 3. Breaking of nose. The spitting in the face brings about a natural tendency in everyone to close thier eyes (some even take the time to wipe thier face) With eyes closed, plenty of time to kick somebody in the balls. Once thats done, the person is usually bent over and in an inviting position for me to grab them by the ears while bringing my knee to thier face. Seeing red, the saliva was gathered up and spit into his face. Time has a way of slowing down sometimes and right about now it almost stood still. As I watched my spit hit him smack dab in the face, his eyes closing, and even his hands rasing to wipe his face I decided not to go through with any of it. I would be the better man here. Telling him to fuck off I picked up my toilet paper and walked away. He didnt follow and I headed up Clinton St. I contained my Irishness and was in a state of happiness. Red became night again and Ryan became Ryan again. Being Irish aint all that bad and its nice to know I inherently have some Irish in me.

Posted by: Monster on Enero 19, 2004 06:24 PM .

Wow. Nice one. And you've got the luck of the Irish too Monster. How many people get confronted by a dude who's proven that he's willing to attack them physically, spit in his face, and walk away with no further complications? If it wasn't you I'd say your story was bullshit. But having had my share of strange confrontations at your side, I can't help but believe you, you sweet, drunken, lippy little mick.

Posted by: king on Enero 19, 2004 06:52 PM .

ahem.. are there enough lables running around in this thread or what?? I am from America and that sounds like things that happened here during the fifties when the segrigation was a big deal between blacks and whites. Sorry but king, you sound no better than the KKK here, except for your half assed attempt at correcting the situation, not that I think you really can without therepy. My family was half irish but I am american and who the hell do you think you are calling America not a country, it's a bigger damn country than england, and we don't have to worry about silly men in wigs who can't seem to step out of a major time warp long enough to remember we arn't in the dark ages anymore. Now, having said that, why don't you take a long look in the mirror before you start throwing stones at people you don't even know and have absolutely no clue about. Your brand of bigorty is not new, nor is it acceptible. That is all I have to say on the subject.

Posted by: cassa on Septiembre 18, 2004 05:21 PM .
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