As an alcoholic I have always had a deep-seated hatred of St. Patrick's Day, trivializing as it does the hard work that I and so many of my fellow dipsomaniacs have put in over the years to slake our insatiable thirst no matter what toll it takes on employment, relationships or physical and mental health. As a humanist I similarly despise it, since it furthers the terrible ethnic stereotype that the Irish are the worst kind of drunks—rowdy Sullys and sullen Mollys who can't hold their liquor, keep their voices down or vomit in anything approaching proximity to a toilet or washbasin—when in fact they are some of the most proficient inebriates I have ever had the pleasure to know. If you're ever desperate for a drink at an odd time of day in an unlikely location, ask the nearest Irishman where you can go for a quick slug; if he doesn't offer you a sip from the magical flask that all Irish people manage to keep well-hidden on their persons at all times he will at minimum point you in the right direction and tell you who to ask for when you get there. That said, as a man grows older he comes to a place where he realizes that the world will not only refuse to accept his wise counsel but will actively seek ways to thwart such knowledge. So I get it: a lot of you are going to get absolutely plastered on Sunday. Watch this important film above on the effects of alcohol, because if you're someone who needs this "holiday" as an excuse to get tanked you clearly don't know the first thing about drinking, and go forth in peace. Just try and keep the puke near the gutter, okay? Thanks.
Friday, March 15th, 2013