Friends don’t let friends drink green Budweiser.
Do yerself a favor (ya bastards) and hoist a pint o’ the brown (or “the
broon” as they say).
The Rule of Guinness:
The first Guinness of the night, tastes like a Guinness.
The second, really tastes like a Guinness.
The third, really REALLY tastes like a Guinness.
The fourth, and any subsequent, taste like root beer floats.
(-Todd)
You can even have yersaelf one of them Black & Tan, or Half & Half. If
you use Bass instead of Harp, rejoice in the fact that the Irish comes
out on top. Quality rises.
(If you must be ironic, put a few drops of green food coloring in a
pint of Czechwar, and realise no one else will get that joke.)
They say everyone’s Irish on St. Patrick’s Day. But not everyone ends
the day drunk off their ass and passed out in a gutter. Those that do,
they’re the real heros. Please try to step over them.
Be kind to snakes, as there are none in Heaven or Ireland.
Enjoy your corned beef and cabbage, and joke about how all Scottish
food is based on a dare.
Ponder why people speaking with Irish accents always sound so bloody
ironic.
Wear orange. See if anyone notices.
Vow once again to read Ulysses, or even Finnegan’s Wake. And fail to
get past the first few pages.
Introduce yourself to people as “Angus the wall-builder.”
Listen to the Pogues (“Shane’s dentist don’t work too hard, always at
the pub…” – Mojo Nixon), the Young Dubliners (or the Dubliners if
you’re truly hardcore), Flogging Molly (saw ’em last night – never
imagined I’d see crowd surfing to Irish Folk music), The Chieftans, and
the Dropkick Murphys. (But not that damned kilt song, besides, it’s
Scottish!)
Wear your kilt proudly. Regimentally. Answer inquiries “Ye’ll have to
check fer yersaelf lassie.”