Toppa the Mornin' to ya Gentle Readers,
You do know why it's called a Paddy Wagon, right?
Years before TWC's vagrant yoot, when he was but a wee lad, we had family friends that were turkey ranchers. The Patriarch spoke with a heavy Irish brogue that may as well have been a foreign language as it was entirely unintelligible to me.
Reading Frank McCourt's book a few years ago, I was reminded that Old Man Porter once told me that, after the Big War, a prosperous Irish family was one that owned two bicycles. At the time, that observation about the living standards in Ireland was entirely lost on me.
I loved his 1959 Cadillac with the bullet taillights. His 1959 El Camino was slicker than cat you-know-what and I swore I'd own an El Camino some day. Which I did. My El Camino was an awesome car. Had a 350 with an Offy high rise intake manifold and a big fat Holley four barrel carburetor sitting on top. It looked something like this.....
American St Patrick’s Day celebrations date back at least three hundred years and like so much else that makes this America, we have embraced this Irish festivity in a style that is uniquely ours. Shamrocks, leprechauns, green beer, green hair, a green river, and a lot of racket, which is old-country Irish slang for an old fashioned welcome-to-the-neighborhood party.
But in Ireland today it’s a softer and more subdued festival that often begins with a morning church service. Despite Ireland’s hard drinking reputation, as recently as thirty years ago most pubs were closed on St Paddy's Day in honor of this religious holiday. Even today the pubs are open mainly to serve the tourist trade arriving to celebrate a real Irish St Patrick’s Day.
The Wine O’Commonsewer