by Stephen Lennstrom
Staff Writer

On March 17, four leaf clovers, “Shamrocks” if you will- emphasis on the “sham”- will be painted on cheeks and slapped on car bumpers and sketched onto arms. I will probably spend St. Patrick’s Day like always, at home sitting in front of my door with a loaded shotgun waiting for the first crazy drunk to come crashing in. The fact is that St. Paddy’s has become all hype and no amount of fake corned hash or green beer can drown out that atrocity.

Am I against alcohol? Or the several “Irish” bars or restaurants in the area that will benefit from an Irish holiday? Not at all. I’m not even against the whole concept of St. Patrick’s Day. But do me a favor and look deep down inside yourself. Ask yourself whether or not you really, honestly believe that you are Irish. Better yet, ask yourself if you really care.

The United States Census Bureau says there are 34.7 million people in the United States that claim Irish ancestry. That’s amazing when you know there only 4.2 million Irish in Ireland.

True, there has been a massive amount of Irish immigration to America. But I am positive that the amount of people who are even a quarter Irish has to be much smaller than 34.7 million. In terms of my own ancestry, I must admit I am merely a quarter Irish, but my point is still valid.

To be honest, it irks me when I see people with t-shirts from shopirish.com or celticclothing. com that say “Kiss me I’m Irish!” and have images of pretty little leprechauns and shamrocks. Really? You’re Irish? I’m sorry, I guess I’ve just never met someone from Ireland who speaks Chinese as their first language.

I’m not being prejudice, I’m just being logical. Why lie to people so that you can feel like you’re “one of the cool Irish people.” Believe me we’re not that cool and we don’t really care for people who are just in it for the beer and pretzels.

I don’t go to pow-wows and start dancing with Native Americans because I’m not Native American. And I don’t celebrate Chinese New Year. You know why? I’ll give you a hint…I’m not Chinese.

So you’re just having fun, you just want to get drunk and maybe score at a pub downtown, fine. If that’s the case then let’s call it, “March 17, the night when I score.” Stop putting your foreign concepts all over my heritage.

And what about the original St. Patrick? Does anyone care that the guy was an exslave turned Christian missionary? In Ireland until only lately, they would shut the bars down on March 17 in order to honor his memory.

So where will you be on March 17? At a bar, as drunk as an alcoholic the Friday after he lose his job? At home with a gun? Or maybe you’ll be one of the few real Irish who spend the day with their parents before attending a church service and remembering the actual guy, St. Patrick. Either way if I were you…I’d stay away from my front door.