I'm not as grouchy as I sound...

It's March 17th, and you know what that means...

.. yes, it's one month until my birthday, or as I call it - The Christmas in April. There shall be a party, oh yes indeed.

Oh, not that I don't like the whole thing or anything, but to paraphrase Warren Ellis:

I’ve lived in Ireland and gotten drunk in Dublin, which makes me more Irish than 99% of you — and, whoops, here’s the clue train pulling up to the station, and it says I’m not Irish and neither are 99% of you so you can stick St Paddy's Day up your arse.

If you want to celebrate St Pat’s today, eat a raw potato, build a house out of peat, and get yourself shot by an Englishman.

And guess what? If you were born in America, you’re not Irish, you’re fucking American. Deal with it.

Also, as castironskillet notes:

There were never any snakes in Ireland.

Padraig was a slave, who escaped and went to England, where he was taken into a monastery and educated. He then went back to Ireland and converted the sun worshipers there to "son" worship, using a device consisting of the sun superimposed behind a cross that incorporated the awesome knot work his former masters used to represent infinity, and the monastic example of humility and selflessness.

They should rename the holiday "International Drinking While Wearing Green" day and be done with it. That's it's true meaning to most people.

That said Miriam & I are going out to have fun with Brian and Erica who are putting on a nice Irish meal and stuff. Should be fun.