Like with most things as of late, a majority of the splendiferous values we used to hold traditional are now overrun by a hauntingly endless plague of douchiness. It's a douche epidemic if you will, and that includes Saint Patrick's Day. So what the hell happened to the Saint Patty's Day we used to know and love, and how do we rescue it from the devil's playground?
![st. patrick's day, drinking, beer buddies]()
To find a solution, we must first establish a problem. In the event of a douche epidemic, regular impressionable people tend to lose sight of how tradition is genuinely conducted, and they somehow end up rallying behind the malpractice of hipster yahoos who, specifically with their neon flare, "kiss me, I'm Irish" swag and DJing dubstep versions of "Danny Boy," botch yet another American tradition.
First and foremost, Saint Patty's Day is an Irish pastime that we borrowed (stole) because of our overwhelming number of straight-laced Catholics and an insatiable thirst for an excuse to get belligerent behind the wheel and call it a holiday, much like Cinco de Mayo. The fact that Saint Patty's Day has been Americanized is just another example of how much we enjoy screwing up other's long held traditions.
Related: 2013 St. Patrick's Day Spirits Guide
We've gotten it all wrong to the point that it's not worth celebrating anymore, and here's why. In Ireland, Saint Patty's Day is an authentic celebration where families go to Mass, gather together for a hearty Irish meal and then drink to good health at the local pubs. In America, it's early rising for plastic green hats and shamrock stickers to cover our obvious lack of Irish historical knowledge and problems with substance abuse.
Although the Irish have ironically used America's model for Saint Pat's Day as inspiration for their own celebration, we still manage to muck it up worse with every passing year. In America, we dress ourselves up like impotent idiot leprechauns and play beer bong like a horde of six-year college flunkies. Parades with floats and rivers running green is all well and good, a tradition any American man can get behind, but the little green anal beads and forced apparel has crossed the line of desperation straight into the hallmark of a once again overly commercialized day of buying knickknacks and paddy whacks we don't need, the truest of all American traditions.
Over the past decade, there has been an unholy surge of awfulness, like cockroaches invading a small kitchen, and it begins with the coloring of shitty domestic beer in order to hide its weak, watered down taste. Now this is not to say that Saint Patty's Day is a sham and shouldn't be celebrated, but people, if we're going to do this, let's do it right. Any half-sober schmuck can tell you that a standard operating Irish man is not going to have three Coors Lights and dance around like he's found a goddamn pot of gold, then call it a night. Especially on Saint Patty's Day! If you want to spend the day pretending you're Irish, then you damn well better go all out, balls to the wall, no holds barred, or risk looking like a fake, store-bought cardboard cut-out.
![st. patrick's day, leprechauns]()
When we want to celebrate a tradition, whether it's ours to begin with or not, we should actually hold ourselves true to the actual traditions instead of making it up as we go along and ignoring the authenticity of the day. The stuff that could actually make the day special and not just another day of getting sloshed and making the same mistakes, the stuff that made us want to celebrate the day in the first place, is what we should take heed to.
It's not all bad news here, however, since there are people who do it right, and those are the heroes we need to look towards on days like this and other holidays (Don't even get me started on Christmas and how far we've fallen from grace with that one). If generations of people before us could see what's become of their holidays, they'd be pleased they're not around to witness the charades of a morally broken culture of misled party animals.
So, with all this negativity and tough love, it's time we dusted ourselves off and got back to tradition. If you're planning a Saint Patty's party or just attending one, do your fellow Americans a favor by bringing a little original Saint Patty's tradition to the front door. For the day, be full-blooded Irish. Go all out with corned beef hash and cabbage. Rustle up a pot of hot potato soup. Whatever floats your Irish boat. Just remember to bring a strong, quality Irish beer, preferably a Guinness, and lots of it. Don't settle for Tecate because it's on sale. And, to make it official, show up with a nice bottle of Irish whiskey and a few solid Irish proverbs under your belt to toast each other the traditional way before a couple Irish car bombs (the pint-sized shot, not the act of terrorism).
The moral of the story: If you're going to do something, do it right. Don't let corporate gimmicks and funny green hats make your day an Irish knock-off. Having said that, you might as well be a drunken scoundrel, eat well with people you love and cheers to good health with loud, old Irish wordplay and drunken slobber like a good Irish boy should.
Maybe you could even ball up your fist and knock some douche's bags right off. That'd be mighty Irish of you, laddy. But seriously, don't hit anybody. It's what separates us from the Irish. Cheers, my boys!
To find a solution, we must first establish a problem. In the event of a douche epidemic, regular impressionable people tend to lose sight of how tradition is genuinely conducted, and they somehow end up rallying behind the malpractice of hipster yahoos who, specifically with their neon flare, "kiss me, I'm Irish" swag and DJing dubstep versions of "Danny Boy," botch yet another American tradition.
First and foremost, Saint Patty's Day is an Irish pastime that we borrowed (stole) because of our overwhelming number of straight-laced Catholics and an insatiable thirst for an excuse to get belligerent behind the wheel and call it a holiday, much like Cinco de Mayo. The fact that Saint Patty's Day has been Americanized is just another example of how much we enjoy screwing up other's long held traditions.
Related: 2013 St. Patrick's Day Spirits Guide
We've gotten it all wrong to the point that it's not worth celebrating anymore, and here's why. In Ireland, Saint Patty's Day is an authentic celebration where families go to Mass, gather together for a hearty Irish meal and then drink to good health at the local pubs. In America, it's early rising for plastic green hats and shamrock stickers to cover our obvious lack of Irish historical knowledge and problems with substance abuse.
Although the Irish have ironically used America's model for Saint Pat's Day as inspiration for their own celebration, we still manage to muck it up worse with every passing year. In America, we dress ourselves up like impotent idiot leprechauns and play beer bong like a horde of six-year college flunkies. Parades with floats and rivers running green is all well and good, a tradition any American man can get behind, but the little green anal beads and forced apparel has crossed the line of desperation straight into the hallmark of a once again overly commercialized day of buying knickknacks and paddy whacks we don't need, the truest of all American traditions.
Over the past decade, there has been an unholy surge of awfulness, like cockroaches invading a small kitchen, and it begins with the coloring of shitty domestic beer in order to hide its weak, watered down taste. Now this is not to say that Saint Patty's Day is a sham and shouldn't be celebrated, but people, if we're going to do this, let's do it right. Any half-sober schmuck can tell you that a standard operating Irish man is not going to have three Coors Lights and dance around like he's found a goddamn pot of gold, then call it a night. Especially on Saint Patty's Day! If you want to spend the day pretending you're Irish, then you damn well better go all out, balls to the wall, no holds barred, or risk looking like a fake, store-bought cardboard cut-out.
When we want to celebrate a tradition, whether it's ours to begin with or not, we should actually hold ourselves true to the actual traditions instead of making it up as we go along and ignoring the authenticity of the day. The stuff that could actually make the day special and not just another day of getting sloshed and making the same mistakes, the stuff that made us want to celebrate the day in the first place, is what we should take heed to.
It's not all bad news here, however, since there are people who do it right, and those are the heroes we need to look towards on days like this and other holidays (Don't even get me started on Christmas and how far we've fallen from grace with that one). If generations of people before us could see what's become of their holidays, they'd be pleased they're not around to witness the charades of a morally broken culture of misled party animals.
So, with all this negativity and tough love, it's time we dusted ourselves off and got back to tradition. If you're planning a Saint Patty's party or just attending one, do your fellow Americans a favor by bringing a little original Saint Patty's tradition to the front door. For the day, be full-blooded Irish. Go all out with corned beef hash and cabbage. Rustle up a pot of hot potato soup. Whatever floats your Irish boat. Just remember to bring a strong, quality Irish beer, preferably a Guinness, and lots of it. Don't settle for Tecate because it's on sale. And, to make it official, show up with a nice bottle of Irish whiskey and a few solid Irish proverbs under your belt to toast each other the traditional way before a couple Irish car bombs (the pint-sized shot, not the act of terrorism).
The moral of the story: If you're going to do something, do it right. Don't let corporate gimmicks and funny green hats make your day an Irish knock-off. Having said that, you might as well be a drunken scoundrel, eat well with people you love and cheers to good health with loud, old Irish wordplay and drunken slobber like a good Irish boy should.
Maybe you could even ball up your fist and knock some douche's bags right off. That'd be mighty Irish of you, laddy. But seriously, don't hit anybody. It's what separates us from the Irish. Cheers, my boys!
