Which reminds me, we’re getting ready for the arrival of the ’48 Willys in two weeks here in the Arizona highlands.
You don’t have to go fast in the Willy’s, and you don’t have to carry a lot of people because it’s a ranch rig.
The Pinz-or-Mog-or-Power Wagon is on hold until I get the Willy’s worked out and can decide whether or not I need one more vehicle.
And I think that the Willy’s will be painted green eventually, which is my segue to St. Patrick’s Day.
St. Paddy’s Day
No Irishman needs an excuse to drink. Not ever.
Neither do pirates (we don’t wait until the sun is over the yard arm as is Naval tradition). The day allows cultural appropriators to PRETEND to be Irish. Do the Irish care that everyone wants to be them? No. They could give a rat’s ass. Beer (green and otherwise) is served to everyone regardless to race, gender, national origin, or political affiliation. The Irish are inclusive in their pubs – more inclusive if you buy a few rounds for the house and just leave your credit card running.
Have a happy day and celebrate with whom you please, be as crazy as you please, and may you get to heaven a half hour before the devil knows you’re dead. (There’s Whiskey in the Jar
St. Patrick was a saint…thus the sermonette.
He drove the snakes out of Ireland. I wonder if he could return to the living and preform the same miracle in Washington DC?