Yeah, that’s rightthe same knobshine Republicans that took asteaming dump on the Clinton budget surplus and flushed it down the toilet byway of jacking up the spending to a place where no country ’tis of thee hadgone before. Fock ’em.
Thank god we got theIrish Fest down by the lakefront this weekend where us non-Irish can gocelebrate a people who historically, I’ve heard, choose to spend the daydrinking rather than working. And now here in America that it seems the onlypeople who have jobs are politicians and bankers, the rest of us may as wellspend the day drinking ’cause we sure as hell won’t be working, at least untilthe moo-cows come home to roost, you bet.
So I’m off to the doctor’s,but I'll leave you with a couple, three stories about drinking, and priests,’cause what the fock, ain’a?
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Two Irish ladieswere at the wake for their dear friend. “Poor Mollie,” said the first woman,looking down at the body, “she had such a hard life. First she married Mike,who gave her five crying children in six years. He beat her and never worked aday in his life. Then Mike up and died, and she married Johnny, who was evenworse, giving her seven more children and not a penny of support. He was drunkall the time until he died, too. And now Mollie is gone, worked to death takingcare of those 12 kids.”
“Well, at leastthey are together at last,” replied the second woman.
“Youmean together in Heaven?” asked the first woman. “But is Mollie together withMike or with Johnny?”
Andthe second woman says, “Neither. I was referring to her legs.” Ba-ding!
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Six retired Irishmen were playing pokerin O'Leary's apartment when Paddy Murphy loses $500 on a single hand, clutcheshis chest and drops dead at the table. Showing respect for their fallenbrother, the other five continue playing
A bit of a while later,Michael O'Connor looks around at the surviving five and asks, "Oh, meboys, someone surely got's to tell Paddy's wife. Who will it be?" Theydraw straws. Brendan “Discretion” O’Gallagher picks the short one. They tellhim to be discreet, be gentle, don't make a bad situation any worse.
"Discreet? I'm the most discreetIrishman you'll ever meet. Discretion is me middle name." So BrendanO’Gallagher goes over to Murphy's house and knocks on the door. Mrs. Murphyanswers and Gallagher declares: "Your husband just lost $500 and is afraidto come home."
"Tell him to drop dead!" saysMurphy's wife.
"I'll go tell him then,ma’am," says Gallagher. Ba-ding!
* * * * * * * * * * * *
So this drunk guy staggers in to aCatholic Church, sits down in a confession box and says nothing. The priest iswaiting and waiting and waiting. Finally, the bewildered priest coughs toattract the drunk's attention, but still the man says nothing. The priest thenknocks on the wall three times in a final attempt to get the man to speak.Finally, the drunk replies: "No use knockin', pal, there's no paper inthis one, either.” Ba-ding!
* * * * * * * * * * * *
And this:Mrs. O'Donovan was walking down O'Connell Street when she met up with Father O'Rafferty.
"Top o' the mornin' to ye,"says the Father. "Aren't you Mrs. O'Donovan, and didn't I marry ye and yerhusband two years ago?" She replies, "Aye, that ye did, Father."
"And be there anywee ones yet?" asks Father O'Rafferty. "No, not yet, Father,"Mrs. O'Donovan says.
"Well, now, I'm going to Rome next week, and I'lllight a candle for ye," the Father says, and they parted ways.
Some years later theymeet again. "Well, now, Mrs. O'Donovan," the priest says. "Howare ye these days?"
"Oh, verywell," says she. "And tell me, have ye any wee ones yet?" thepriest asks. "Oh, yes, Father," Mrs. O'Donovan replies. "Threesets of twins and four singles10in all."
"Aye, how wonderfulit is!" he says. "And how is your lovely husband?" And Mrs.O'Donovan says, “My husband, he’s gone to Rome.He’s gone to blow out yer fockin' candle."
Ba-ding-ding-ding!’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.
