I like the Irish. Not Notre Dame.

It was in high school when I first started to think about what islands of white people my family came from way back when. Of course, like everyone else in the southeast, Britain and Ireland were the primary culprits. I was prompted to look into it because there were a lot of people in my high school whose parents were born in India but they had never seen the place and still managed to feel and act more Indian than American. Don't get me a wrong, there were a lot of awesome Indian people too, but there were some who would only hang with other Indian folks, which strikes me as, well, I don't want to say racist, but a little bit racist.

This coming week is, of course, the holiday for people who like to pretend they're Irish. I have never been to Ireland and my last name is English, but there are Irish people in my family tree and begorrah, I love it. The Irish are a jolly people, and I like being a part of that. There are primarily three things that Irish people are known for, and they're all fantastic. Indian people might have better food, but they sure don't have better booze.

1. Booze (Biotálle). Distillation came to Ireland from the Mediterranean by way of missionaries, according to wikipedia. How great is that? Missionaries! There's a saying that the Irish discovered whiskey and the Scottish perfected it. You know what I have to say about that? Ireland is independent and Scotland is still run from London. Eat that. Also, everyone loves Guinness. Americans learned to make their liquors when the Irish and Scottish came over and settled the South in the early colonial days. Good for them.
2. Blessings (Beannachtaí). Everyone knows the "May the road always rise to meet you..." blessing. You may not have known is that there are like a thousand just like it, poetic and fun and cheery. For a people so historically miserable (not quite Polish or Jewish miserable, but certainly more so than the Canadians), most of what you see is very positive, like charming brogues, pots of gold and leprechauns, and excellent smelling soap. I suspect #1 has a hand in this attitude. My favorite is: May you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead.
   
3. Blarney (An Bhlárna). It is a town, castle, rock and gift originating in County Cork. You might think it's just mumbo jumbo, but this community has been able to convince Americans to come to their town and spend good money in order bend over backwards to kiss a rock. If that isn't evidence of the gift of Blarney, I don't know what is. There is also a disproportionate presence of Irish writers in the English language, and I'd like to think that there's something in the blood, and I just have to activate that component of it by drinking Bushmills.

Sure, there are terrorists and domestic violence too, but all that has largely been drowned out by the Muslims blowing people up in more dramatic fashion. And their accents aren't nearly as fun. Can you imagine a Saudi breakfast cereal? Magically delicious, insha'allah. Anyway, everyone have a happy SPD on the 17th, eat some corned beef and cabbage and say sláinte as you think about your favorite blogger. The Wonkette.

GOOOOOOOAAAAAALLLLLL!

I tried to watch a World Cup game today - England vs. Paraguay. I'll probably watch the USA on Monday as well. People talk about the excitement in sports, and it's ok, I guess, but I still don't know if I understand this game. The action is continuous, that is true, but because the action is continuous doesn't mean it's all exciting. Think of it this way: you like movies, so a long movie will be better than a short one. That's not necessarily true.

I want to like this game. I really do. I want to understand what it is about this game to inspire hooliganism of such a magnitude to make Maryland Terrapins fans look tame. But it's confusing. Not the game itself as much, really, but the nuances, the sophistication of the game. The more I think about it, though, is that this game needs beer more than an ugly chick sitting at the bar a half hour before last call does to be appreciated. That's a little rough at 9 AM.

So my question is, really, does the rest of the world actually enjoy this game or is it a prank they're pulling on the Americans? Sure, after baseball it may be deserved, but what is it that everyone but us goes nuts about? I'm going to give this World Cup the chance to see through the demands for beer, much like I saw through the need for drugs to listen to 60s guitar music. I think I may even bring in some Brazilians to try to explain it. I do think that I'll be able to convert them to football in September, though.