I’ll be wearing blue for St Patrick’s Day, just to be authentic.

Blue, you see, is the official color of Saint Patrick.  He explained the Holy Trinity to pre-Christian Irish by using the three leaves of the shamrock.  The phrase “the wearing of the green” comes from wearing a shamrock as a sign of protest to show you were Catholic during the Protestant reign of Great Britain.  Nowadays if you are a Protestant in the North you wear orange on March 17th in Protest of the Catholic Church.

But St. Patrick liked blue.

You can cover all three bases by wearing green, orange, and blue.  Or you can just puke on yourself, which is what many will do on St. Patrick’s Day, anyway.

When the British Parliament made St. Patrick’s Day an official banking holiday in 1907, part of the legislation called for the pubs to be closed on March 17th.  Some say this caused the second Irish emigration to New York. The Irish did without until a change of law in the 1970’s.

St. Patrick is one of three patron saints of Ireland. The other three being Brigid of Kildare and St Columba.

Being a nun, Brigid was rather frigid and a wet blanket at parties.  St Columba, on the other hand, was a brawler in the best Irish tradition. When St Finnian refused to let St Columba have a psalter (a book of psalms) that Columba had copied by hand, the fight escalated and was not settled until many died in the Battle of Cúl Dreimhner.  Columba was exiled to Scotland. Saint Finnian became a saint. Who do YOU think won?

We don’t know when Patrick was born, where exactly in Ireland his mission was, or how he died. In fact, all we have are two letters of his.  In one letter he is defending himself against charges of financial perfidy.  St Patrick refused to take bribes from Kings so they used that as a basis to accuse him of being a thief. Logic is not a strong point in Ireland.

In the other letter, he announces that he has excommunicated certain Brythonic warriors of Coroticu for pillage, rape, and murder.  He did this after they had fled the country: which made it easy for everyone else to shun them.

Patrick did not literally run all the snakes out of Ireland because, according to the fossil evidence, there were no snakes on the island as they had all been crushed by the glaciers in the last Ice Age.  The snake was the symbol for the Druids and Patrick was in the business of converting Druids to Christianity.  More specifically, he had a knack for getting rich Druid females to start nunneries depriving rich Male Druids of places to put their snakes.

This was all foretold in a prophesy of the Druids:

Across the sea will come Adze-head, crazed in the head,
his cloak with hole for the head, his stick bent in the head.
He will chant impieties from a table in the front of his house;
all his people will answer: “so be it, so be it.

Druid poetry, you see, is an oxymoron.

We don’t know where Patrick is buried.  There is good reason for this.  When he died a gigantic tug of war called “Battle for the Body” almost happened.  I say almost because the Lord sent a flood to separate the armies and then fooled both of them into thinking they were walking off with the body. Who knows, maybe Patrick got left on the riverbank to provide fertilizer for clover.  Wearing the green, so to speak.

So, for St Patrick’s Day, I will wear blue and have a “bit of the green” on my collar, but no orange. Like all the Druids bellying up to the bar, I’m going to pretend to be Irish Catholic for the day.

Excerpted from “History of Biomedics” Little Brown & Co. ©2052

… Jackson kicked off his sixth comeback tour by appearing in public with a completely new nose that had been grown in place using stem cells, a massive elective surgery market was created overnight. The dislocations to society stemming from this and the riots of 2016 are still being felt to this day.

The supply of stem cells in the twenty-teens was limited by the quaint idea that profits were evil.  The medical industry could not purchase stem cells on the open market and the only supply could come from the eggs left over from in vitro fertilization.

The American Red Cross began an aggressive program to gather fertilized eggs for legitimate surgery. Teenage girls were encouraged to have unprotected sex and visit their American Red Cross afterwards.  This was not popular with parents and the amounts collected were minimal.

Black Markets in stem cells soon sprung up under the sponsorship of organized crime.  Brothels made so much from collecting and selling fertilized eggs that they began charging for the drinks and giving away sex for free.

Teenagers and parents were soon battling over requests to add extra fingers and toes like the new cool kids on the Disney Channel.

As the demand grew to replace body parts their owners did not like, the prices for surgery using “legal” body parts grew even faster.  Mexico’s lax rules on embryo collection attracted many gringos to “cross the line and come back fine.”

It was estimated that 99.9% of the male population wanted to grow new penises and 33% of females agreed with them.  Those who were rich enough or lucky enough to get the new economy sized models could easily be discerned by their bowlegged gait — which was quickly named the Wing Wang Walk and was the inspiration for a major dance craze.

Congress attempted to pass new laws in 2014 to outlaw Cosmetic and Optional enhancement and “put the Mafia out of business”.  The effort was halted when journalists discovered that the Mafia was spending freely in support of  the bill to limit access to legal stem-cells.

After extensive debate, a  compromise was reached in 2015 wherein any type of body part could be grown for elective surgery as long as the stem cells  for it were donated by an immediate family member.  Liberals refused to support the legislation until funding for stem cell enhancement was made available to the poor.

Soon both poor and rich men were walking the Wing Wang Walk while the middle class seethed.

A naturalist backlash to glorify “natural men” and “natural women” was reflected in new online videos and websites. Enhanced people fought back by calling naturalist women “3S”  for “sore, sorry, and shallow”. Naturalist men were called “nubbies”.

Biological bigotry grew to the point that some lunch counters were refusing to seat men who required an extra cushion in order to sit without hurting themselves.

Events came to a head when, at the start of his seventh come back tour in 2016, Micheal Jackson saw his nose spin off into the audience after several pirouette turns on the catwalk.  An investigation revealed that stem cell grown body parts were structurally weak and could fall off if vigorously shaken for a long period of time.

Riots broke out in cities all over the United States as the….

US Ends Ban on Media Photos of War Dead

Phone Ring Tone.

“Thank you for calling the New York Times. For circulation press one, for classifieds, press two, for newsroom press three, for special offers on coffin-photos press nineteen sixty-eight.”

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

“This is the Media Release forms department. Someone will be with you in just a moment.”

Music.

“When your representative comes on the line, be sure to ask about our free 8×10 offer. If you sign up today you get a free sports..”

“Media Releases”

“Yeah, I want to complain about this stupid media release forms for coffins business.”

“Another one? Hold, I’ll connect you.”

Music.

“Hello this Maniar. How may I be helping you?”

“You can help me by kissing my ass.”

“I am sorry. I am in Bengaluru and you are in the United States. I am unable to be kissing your ass at this time. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

“Like Hell. Where do you people get off thinking that you can take a picture of my dead son’s coffin?”

“Please accept my condolences for your loss, I..”

“No he’s not dead yet, but if he was, why in the heck would you want to take a picture of his coffin, anyway?”

“I will not be taking the picture, sir, and I apologize for that. Still, you should listen to the offer. It is a pretty good deal.”

“I don’t want an 8×10 glossy of my son’s coffin!”

“Maybe someone else in your family would desire the picture, sir. Even so, you would still get to keep the Sports Bottle with our compliments.”

“Sports Bottle?”

“and your son would also get to be the first off the plane when it lands at  Andrews Air Force Base. Its a pretty sweet deal. VIP treatment.”

“wait a minute, what are you talking about?”

“so few people sign the media release form that The New York Times is having problems keeping unreleased coffins out of the picture. By signing the release form, your son will join the elite group that leaves the plane first for picture taking. All the others have to wait back in the plane where there is no air conditioning.”

“Why don’t you make those sons of media whores wait in the back of the plane?”

“I understand how you feel, sir, and I apologize that your undead son will have to wait in the back of the plane.  I have been authorized to offer you our special video package if you will reconsider.”

“Video?”

“Our media partner, MSNBC, will provide a video of your undead son’s coffin as it leaves the plane.  By special arrangement, it will be inserted into a video featuring Country Joe and the Fish singing the ‘I-Feel-Like-I’m-Fixin’-to-Die‘ rag.”

“I’ve got a good mind to fly over to India and kick your inconvenient ass right now.”

“Maybe you would like the eight wallet sizes instead?”

Phone slams down.

Dial tone.

If you feed a Peeve, it will stay.

Peeve owners are congenitally unable to own just one. Peeves know this, and as soon as a person takes in a Peeve, the word goes out and other Peeves scurry to the scene hoping to be taken in, too.

The beginning Peeve owner may reject these entreaties at first. They delude themselves that they can hold it to just the one; however, as time passes and they begin to crave the company of Peeves their resolution dissolves. They find themselves gathering as many Peeves as they can find.

Owners of too many Peeves are called Peevish. Their obsession with Peeves make them poor company for people who keep a Peeve-free home. The Peevish are unaware of this fact.

The Peevish spend an inordinate amount of time nourishing Peeves, polishing Peeves, exercising Peeves, and facilitating their breeding. The Peevish become slaves of the Peeves.

The Peevish usually have one Peeve that they like over all the others. This one is designated as the “Pet” Peeve. Caring for it is so onerous that two people will often arrange to share a common Pet Peeve.

Happy Peeves exhibit behaviors of petulance, fractiousness, and irritation. A placid Peeve is a sick Peeve. The only tonic is to be exposed to their favorite nettle until their ill nature reasserts itself.

Peeves are so cherished that many of the Peevish contrive to take their Peeves with them to the grave. The problem is that Peeves won’t stay there. They can escape. This can best be observed in the graveyard at night when the Peeves can be seen shimmering in the moonlight as they rise up and fan out to look for new owners to enslave.

Cares may die and fears may wither, but Peeves… Peeves can live forever.

It happened again. I was commenting on  the Weekly Question by  wackjobmom of Mom’s Crazy Life over at HumorBloggers and I looked down and realized that I had diarrhea of the keyboard so bad that my answer was longer than her entire post. When I pressed send, the forum’s software just gagged. I don’t think it was programmed to handle 300 word comments.

I am now limiting myself to one word comments on the blogs for a week.  Its either feast or famine.

If you liked this silly little satire, consider rating me at Humor Bloggers Dot Com and put in a few nice words.  No registration required and no salesman will call.

I am a Smart Alec. I believe it is genetic, which is nice because that means I can blame it on my parents instead of me. I practice the craft of Smart Alecey on the blogs of others by leaving comments on their posts. Sometimes I just go overboard and come up with something that I wished I’d saved for my own blog.  Well, there is a Politically Incorrect way to take care of that…

To A Heart Broken Blogger

Over on a humor blog called Blunt Wit , J D has on his sad clown face because his heart was broken. Instead of humor, we get a really pretty, but very depressing post. I decide to lighten his day by leaving a radio commercial spoof

[light music] Romantic Love. Your mom warned you about it. Your friends said not to do it. But you did it anyway. Every day across America, someone turns another person into a mirror and falls in love. life is wonderful until… [cut music]

[funeral bell gong up and then under and long fade]

one day, the mirror breaks and you wake up depressed, lethargic, and changing your status on Facebook and MySpace while listening to bad country music you found on last.fm . Your phone fills up with all the sympathetic text messages from couples who will now avoid you like the leper you are.

It didn’t have to be this way.

[upbeat]

You could have followed the ten steps to cooling romantic love into something you can deal with. Its a new booklet from the Consumer Information Catalog. The booklet is free. Just Write: I Was A Damned Fool, Pueblo Colorado, 81009.

Romance, It Gives Love a Bad Name. [fading]

A public service message from Hallmark Cards, This Station, and the Ad Council®

See, I Told You They Were Out To Get Me

Over at Life is Good, Dana started free associating about all the people who were following her. I decided to come out from the cold and admit to being a member of the agency.

Here at the agency, we prefer to monitor people by the little microphone that was placed in your larynx when you had your tonsils taken out. We know everything about you — even what you scream in your more intimate moments.

So far, you’ve been lucky. But be warned! Cross us and we’ll frame you so quick that you’ll be sitting in prison marking off the days until you can stop being a L.U.R.D.

Yeah, we know you watched Kathy Griffin and know exactly what that means.

Go ahead and act feisty and tell all those fawning blog fans of yours that you are not afraid of us; but, remember, we’re watching… and Helga is waiting for you…

When she posted her Friday Feature about the best comments of the week, I wasn’t there.  Hmm, looks OK to me!

Wait for It

Then there was the rant that began its life as a comment on the Sanity on Edge Blog following someone uttering the standard complaint about Christmas materialism. It set me off. As you can guess, I am very much in favor of Christmas materialism.

After about 200 words tumbled out, I realized that I had something suitable for posting and, selfish charlatan that I am, I cutnpasted it over to here and deleted it off her blog. Sorry, ettarose!

This jewel grew to 500 words with bells and whistles and will automatically post to the world on December 1, 2009.

You’ll just have to wait for it!

Do not worry yourself about the sensibilities of my blogging friends. In this post I have placed hyperlinks that search engines will follow back to their blogs. They will gain extra authority on Technorati and Google. We’re all such attention whores that we’ll endure any amount of humiliation to get better rankings on search engines. How many of your friends can say that?

If you liked this silliness, please consider going over to Humorbloggers dot com and giving me a nice review.  No registration required.  We attention whores need our fix!