St. Patrick’s Day doesn’t produce St.ly behavior. It is doubtful many St.-like folks even ventured out on the 17th. The so-called Irish holiday brings out drink-crazed roustabouts, many who aren’t even Irish; who feel drunkenness is a necessity on this day.
St. Patrick was an over-privileged Brit, captured by Irish slave traders at the age of 16. Eventually, he gained freedom, established 300 churches and baptized over 120,000 Catholics in Ireland, all the while eluding 12 assassination attempts.
Many are aware of that silly story about Patrick charming all the snakes in Ireland and leading them to the sea to drown. There’s more truth to the story of how he used the three-leaf clover to explain the Holy Trinity to non-believers. Regardless, he was written about as a lovely person, obviously worthy of sainthood.
That’s the story of St. Patrick in a nutshell and it doesn’t relate to how people celebrate St. Patrick’s Day by a long shot. I spent the night at a small Philly bar, drinking Yuenglings, because the bottle is green, and playing pool.
St. Patrick’s Day takes place right in the middle of March Madness. The losses of Iowa and Kansas wrecked havoc on the NCAA March Madness brackets. Those like myself, who were cruising to victory and the spoils that go along with it, were stunned and disillusioned. The unthinkable upsets pinched a number of nerves and created the kind of anxiety that makes the palms sweaty.
The rest of the weekend was a forgetful mess, strung together by fractured conversation and pictures that I took with my digital camera. When Sunday suddenly appeared out of nowhere, I was anxious to see if Tony Soprano had survived the gunshot wound to the stomach that he suffered at the end of the season six premiere.
The good news was that big T lived. The bad news was that the episode was dominated by another one of those bizarre dream sequences. Regardless, without the boss, the rest of the Soprano crime family will likely feud over territory and power and clash with New York once again.
Saturday marked the anniversary of the legendary Eazy-E’s death. The Lord took Eazy-E, head of the controversial rap group N.W.A., 11 years ago. The jerry curled co-inventor of “gangsta rap” dined at the White House, scored a slew of hit records, made the FBI’s Most Wanted list and owned a record label in his 31 years on earth.
He was the real thing, a villainous hustler born on the ruthless streets of Compton, Calif. who had to “do these things” to survive.
He didn’t have musical talent, but people liked him.
“Ruthless, my style as a juvenile, ran with a gang, slanged in the meanwhile, banking, I specialized in ganking whites, Mexicans, brothers, and others, daily it’s all about coming up, making sure no punks are running up,” he explained in the song, “No More?” That’s the philosophy of Eazy-E in a nutshell. He was the original gansta rapper and some people miss him a lot.
My good friend Duke “One Lame” Fontaine assembled a shrine and wears an Eazy-E t-shirt until it starts to smell or he spills something on it. His first stop in the afterlife will be “Thug’s Mansion,” as Tupac Shakur dubbed it. There, Fontaine plans on spending the afterlife polishing Eazy’s chains and playing “Eazy-Duz-It” on repeat. “He pulled out his gat, I know he wouldn’t last, I thought to myself, yo’ you better thing fast” and on and on.
Mid-March is the busy turning point of the year. The weather warms up, NCAA basketball climaxes, and holidays like St. Patrick’s Day give people an excuse to get out of the house and have some fun.
Stone Harbor – Bob Ross thank you for all your years of volunteer service to the community of Stone Harbor. A Lifelong resident And property owner. 10 years on school board, 6 years on zoning board they can't…
