Normally I’d be bummed that it’s Monday, but I had the foresight to take today off (which is nice, ‘cuz it’s, like, 4° out there at the moment and it’s only supposed to get up to twenty, which is some twenty degrees below normal). I actually didn’t remember taking today off until last Thursday, when I was going through the calendar looking for days to take off in the coming year (I think I mentioned, I have to burn 19 vacation days and 4 comp days just to avoid losing anything), so that was a pleasant surprise.

As if the news that Donald Trump won’t be running for NY Guv wasn’t sad enough, now comes word that Fred Phelps is on the verge of death. Lucky for him hell is just some made up bullshit meant to scare children (and the intellectually infantile) into submission, or Satan would be whomping up a special place for him right now (an eternity of anal penetration with a hot poker no doubt in store for him).

Much as some part of me would love to protest his funeral carrying a “God Hates Phelps” sign, in the end he really isn’t worth it. May he rot in the ground, just like the rest of us. The sooner the better.

If you need to fly somewhere, well, good luck with that. First there’s that whole missing Malaysia flight (personally, I think it went to some island chop shop, and is currently being sold for parts – though I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s actually out there flying over the 1939 World’s Fair trying to find Idlewild), then in yet another scene straight out of the Twilight Zone, a gremlin ripped off part of the wing of a Delta 757 headed for Atlanta.

I think I’ll take the train (or better yet, just stay home).

So, it’s St. Patrick’s Day. A day that’s not really a big deal in Ireland, and where they don’t eat corned beef (cabbage, maybe). That’s ‘cuz the goddamn English exported all the beef and the other decent food, leaving nothing but turnips and potatoes. And as we know, when the potatoes turned to shit, a million Irish starved to death and another million emigrated. In fact, by the turn of the century, the population of Ireland was damn near cut in half.

So, anyway, today we celebrate St. Patrick, an Englishman whose great claim to fame was driving the snakes out of Ireland in the fifth century (which sounds like a neat trick, until you realize there weren’t actually any snakes in Ireland to begin with – not for thousands of years, anyway).

Still, Patrick was considered a great man and the Patron Saint of Ireland. Besides the snake thing, he was kidnapped as a kid and forced into slavery in Ireland, then escaped and went back to England and became a priest or whatever they called themselves back in the 400s and then actually came back to Ireland again – which kind of shows a certain lack of common sense in my book, but, hey, who am I to argue?

So, anyway, to all the Irish and Irish at heart, have a happy day. Everybody else, go Phelps yourself.

Seo sláinte an tséitéara, an ghadaí, an trodaí, agus an óltóra!
Má dhéanann tu séitéireacht, go ndéana tú séitéireacht ar an mbás,
Má ghoideann tú, go ngoide tú croí mná;
Má throideann tú, go dtroide tú i leith do bhráthar,
Agus má ólann tú, go n-óla tú liom féin.