Do they all think we are all eejits swillin’ green beer and puking our guts out along the parade route? Ye are handy with a pen—dash off a few words to the Hallmark Card Company and tell them that we’ll burn a leprechaun card every day until they start printing greetings with St. Patrick instead of green beer!

You thought that voice was stark raving mad all these years, but now you won’t hoist a pint before first stopping at church on March 17. It is there that you reflect on God’s many blessings in your life. You married way above your station, your children are angels, your parents are in fine health into their later years, and you live in abundant love with your friends and family. You say a silent prayer to the saint who was captured and carried off as a slave to Ireland in his teens, asking him to watch over your economically battered homeland right before you light a candle and bow to your Maker.

I like the way you ended this, luv. Fair play to yeh. Maybe I didn’t do such a bad job raising yeh after all.

This is your brain on shamrocks.

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