Éireann go Brách!

Luck of the Irish, part 2

Since first posting my ‘Luck of the Irish’ story, I have received many

suggestions on ideas to track down my lost lucky Florin. Some were pretty silly, (a metal detector? Indoors? Jeez.) Some more practical, and pretty easy to do, (a divining rod! Who’da thunk it?) And some were simply stereotypical, anti-Irish attacks, (“Lucky Charms cereal," Kristine? Be serious!)

The results were that I found, (or “divined,”) a shitload of strange coins here in my house!

A Susan B. Anthony dollar, a Sacagawea dollar, A William Henry Harrison dollar, (I didn't even know those existed!), an "AA 24 Hours Sober" coin, a pile of various gaming tokens, and even a square, 5-Florin Coin from Aruba! But alas, no lucky 2-shilling piece.

And then, like a stroke of genius, the idea hit me like a flashback born of way too many drugs in my gloriously misspent youth; Boom! "Brady knows best."

In my head, the music came up; “Here’s the story, of a lovely lady...”

March, 1970, episode 25 of the first season finds little Jan

receiving a locket from an anonymous sender and everyone plays detective to find out who sent it.

But, (and here is where it gets interesting,) she loses it! Peter suggests that everyone re-enact the events leading up to “crime.” The whole family was meticulous in the re-enactments... And it worked. Jan’s locket was found.

So, I too, must recreate the events of the night that my 1965 Florin coin arrived in order to find out where I put it.

I began by ordering a new coin. This time, I went with an Irish 1965 penny, a (“Lucky Penny!”) I made sure to drink exactly the same amount of whiskey as I did the first time, and, as much as I wanted to drink from my Mayor McCheese glass tonight, it was Ronald then, so it was Ronald now.

Sláinte! (Work, work, work!)

I watched the same movies, I sang the same songs, I got into the same argument with the missus, everything was going perfectly...

I think. Things started to get a little foggy about the time Egon was once again explaining about giant Twinkie of paranormal activity...

And... Chris: Out.

So, I am not sure if the experiment was a success or not. I DID completely re-enact the series of events precisely, (just like those Brady kids!) and I WAS able to force the the exact same outcome.

Now my new penny is missing.

Crap. So is all of my whiskey.

Luck of the Irish

I am not a superstitious man. As I have mentioned in many previous posts, I am skeptic. And do not believe in invisible powers guiding my hand, choosing my path, or influencing my life in any way.

That said, I also realize that I have been wrong in the past, and it pays to err on the side of caution. My solution: A good luck charm.

I have been carrying a seven-sided 50 pence piece around with me, everyday for about 15 years. It has been my de facto lucky coin, simply by default.

Well, I recently got greedy and decided to upgrade. It has been accepted that a coin minted in the year of your birth is considered a lucky coin, and so, I decided to seek out a coin from Ireland from 1965, (Yeah, I know, I’m old.)

So, with a blind optimism, and anticipating an experiment, I scoured the ol' Interweb.

I found a swell ’65 Irish Florin, (or 2 shilling piece.) It was nice and cost me hardly anything. I ordered it and was prepared for my fortune to finally improve.

I distinctly remember it arriving in the mail. ‘Twas a bit smaller than my fifty pence piece, but it had a salmon on it, and since that is also considered a symbol of knowledge, I just KNEW that this was a good idea.

When my new acquisition arrived, I was three days into my February vacation. I decided to celebrate my impending good luck with a wee drop or two of the Paddy, (a Cork product, after all,) as any semblance of A.M. accountability wasn’t due for several days.

Here’s to optimism!

Well, that was back in February. And for the life of me, I have no idea where I left that coin. The following morning, and everyday since, I have searched this house, stem to stern, without any sign of the Florin! (At this point, I would to ask that anyone reading this, please spare me the “evils of the drink,” sermons, that is WAY too obvious.)

But since it first arrived right up until this very posting, my luck has gone from bad to worse to absolute shite.

Immediately upon the conclusion of my vacation, my day job seemed to expand in its expectations of me, the best of intentions invariably found me in deep doo-doo, and my debit card somehow and for the first time ever in my life, went missing, of course, at an extremely inopportune time.

The absolute kicker, though, the straw that broke it, was the traumatic discovery that my favorite beer in the whole wide world, Beamish, will no longer be imported to the U.S. (And of course, I discovered this little piece of soul-crushing info much too late to go out and stock up on it! "Cold turkey!")

Again, I am not one given to supernatural ideas. I am a pragmatic, logical individual. But I fear there must be some connection.

Logically speaking, it could ONLY have been the arrival and subsequent loss of this coin that turned my fortune into millery shash, and thusly tarnished my optimism.

It was obvious that there is only one course of action: find this coin. My frantic search continues.

After finding it, if there isn’t a immediate turn of events, luck-wise, I may have to destroy it entirely! (Although, if there are any options that I am overlooking, please let me know!!!)

I admit, not believing in the supernatural, or charms, or any of that junk, I fear I am out of my depth on this. I welcome any advice on the matter. Thank you.

It is so ironic that finding this coin would require a great deal of luck, and if I had any good luck, I wouldn't need to find this coin so badly!

To be continued...

Facts about Leprechauns*

Ever more lesser known, (and highly questionable,) facts about Leprechauns, This time based entirely on accounts from the second Leprechaun sequel, Leprechaun 3.

Set in Las Vegas, the laughing, green, killer-munchkin is surrounded by the greedy, and reveals even more about his type than anyone really cares to know...

1. If a mortal get hold of a Leprechaun’s gold, he will be granted one wish for each shilling, (or about $1100.00 per ounce!)

2. Leprechaun shit is green. (No. I am serious. It is in this movie! To quote: "A little token of my esteem, it is exactly what it seems. Made fresh daily, at exactly 9'O Clock. It comes from my chilaney, you can keep it in a crock!" Everyone should have their own little shit poem.)

3. Leprechaun blood is green. (But then, of course it is!)

4. If a mortal gets leprechaun blood mixed with their own, they will in turn become a leprechaun, (just like vampires and werewolves, I guess. I smell a new Twilight!)

5. Leprechauns can only be killed be by destroying the leprechaun’s gold, (but then, what was that about 4-leaf clovers? Or that whole wrought iron-thing?)

"Ah, Tank ye, Tank ye very much!"

A Mother's Prayer

My mother was very proud of her Irish heritage, and she was insistent in passing that tradition on to her children. In fact, she used to take all six of us kids into Boston for Irish Step Dancing lessons every Saturday morning.

Even back then, it was rarely a pleasant trip and I recall one Saturday, we were running quite late. Upon arrival, there wasn’t a single parking spot anywhere to be found and my mother was getting nervous.

“Dear God,” she quickly prayed, “if you find me a parking spot I will give $100.00 in the collection plate tomorrow morning at Mass!”

Just then, almost miraculously, a car pulled out to leave right in front of us.

“Never mind, Lord,” she quickly added, “I found one myself.”

Scotland (You Owe Us)

After Flogging Molly cracked the mainsteam arena and started going all "Warped Tour," the L.A. bar, Molly Malone's, (from where the band took it's name!) need a new house band. A number of acts stepped up. Among them "The Mighty Regis."

As part of the 17 Days of Saint Patrick, I decided to included the lyrics to the spoken rant in the song, Scotland, (You Owe Us,) by The Mighty Regis.

By The Mighty Regis off the album “Another Nickel For The Pope .”

♪ ...If not for the Irish you wouldn’t be free! ♫

“Now, here’s what I mean by that. In 1994, there was a movie called ‘Braveheart,’ starring and directed by Mr. Mel Gibson, in which he portrayed William Wallace, Scotland’s high protector and the man who freed Scotland from the clutches of England.

But there’s a pivotal scene in this movie, if you remember, where William Wallace is out hunting for some deer, and out of the clear blue Scottish wilderness comes Steven, one of his high captains, an Irishman, mind you, with his blade drawn, ready to fire. And Wallace spins around, thinking he was being betrayed be the Irishman, but in actuality, that Paddy was there to have his back, and Steven lets go of his blade, and it goes right over Wallace’s shoulder, into the heart of a Scottish rebel, standing behind him waiting to betray him.

So the way I see it, and the way the lads and the lassie see it, and the way the history books should see it, is without that Irishman, William Wallace is dead, 45 minutes in, and Scotland doesn’t get it’s precious freedom!

So Scotland! Get off your kilted arses! Lift your whiskeys to the sky and give thanks to the island to your west that gave you your freedom.

‘Cuz Scotland, you owe us! And it time to pay up!”

http://www.myspace.com/themightyregis

http://www.themightyregis.com/

A Garda Encounter

My wife isn’t Irish.

Not only that, but she has a very difficult time understanding the Irish accent.

A few years ago, we were visiting my family in the southwest of County Cork. My wife decided that she wanted to drive our rental for a while. She quickly got the hang of the right-hand steering and we had no problems... Until the “roundabout.”

At this confusing wheel of frantic, foreign traffic, Cheryl decided that she would let me take the controls again, but before we could switch places, the Gardai, (the Irish police,) arrived and pulled us over.

He asked what the problem was, and my wife, unable to decipher his thick, Bantry brogue, turned to me.

“He wants to know why we're stopped,” I translated.

She explained her nervousness and the young officer smiled. He asked to see her license, and again she turned to me.

“He needs to see your driver’s license,” I told her.

After she handed it to him, the Garda looked at it and said, “Oh, I see your from Boston. I used to date a girl from Boston. Meanest woman I’ve ever known.”

My wife turned to me for translation. I told her, “He said he thinks he knows you.”

Well, the cop laughed, anyways.

A scene from the RTE show, Killinaskully...

Facts about Leprechauns*

During the Seventeen Days of Saint Patrick, I decided to offer up a public service called "Facts About Leprechauns."

Very little is actually known about these symbols of Irish folklore. So, in an effort to educate anyone with an interest, I decided to do some research and watched all six movies in the Warwick Davis "Leprechaun" series. It was from this source, (*and this source alone, mind you,) that the following list of facts was compiled.

Facts About Leprechauns, (according to the movie "Leprechaun.")

1. A four leaf clover is like Kryptonite to a leprechaun. (Or garlic to a vampire, silver to a werewolf, Southwest Airline "coach" seating to Kevin Smith... You get the idea.)

2. Leprechauns are addicted to gold and, apparently, shining shoes. (I mean, junkie-addicted! You throw a leprechaun a scuffed Oxford and he will abandon all else until that baby sparkles!)

3. Leprechauns possess highly developed powers of mimicry, (and can imitate Jennifer Anniston perfectly!)

4. If a leprechaun loses a body part, (like a hand, for example,) the severed part retains animation as well as intelligence and re-attaches to the leprechaun with just brief pressure. (Which is damned convenient!)

5. Leprechauns speak in rhyme, like Underdog, almost constantly, (or, as they more appropriately say in the Latin, "ad nauseum!")

You see? There is so much we can learn from the wee folk.

March. What a sucky month.

So today starts off March.

What sucks about March is it is a very long month. It has no school vacations, no major holidays, and depending on where you are, geographically, (and, I guess, emotionally!,) it is cold and dark.

Plus, if you, like your humble author, live in a region that practices Daylight Savings, you lose one hour of your life.

It is no wonder that, statistically, people are three times more likely to choke the living shit out of a co-worker in March than in any other month. I don't make this stuff up. That is a statistic.

There is one shining highlight to the month, and that is the 17th. Saint Patrick's Day.

According to the Toler Holiday Rubrick™ Saint Patrick's Day possesses enough awesome holiday elements to make it second in general overall awesomeness only to Christmas!

(Graphs don't lie, people!)

And you don't even have to be Irish to celebrate it, we welcome you anyways..

So, it is in the spirit of Saint Patrick's Day, that we embrace this shining star of light in an otherwise dark and gloom-filled month, and celebrate The Seventeen Days of St. Patrick.

Sláinte!