The Whole Thing’s a Sham(rock)

Stop everything! Put down your beer. Take off your novelty “Kiss Me, I’m Irish” shirt, with matching tiny hat, glasses and authentic felt beard. In fact, if you’re actually 100% Irish, you should probably just leave the room.

If you’re still reading, you’d better sit down.

St. Patrick isn’t real.

Wow. I actually said it. It feels kind of good just to get that out there, y’know?  I’ve been carrying that little green monkey on my back solo for months.

Now, if you’re full-out losing it right now, hold on. Don’t spit Guinness all over your MacBook. If we’re splitting hairs, you’re right. He was “real” in the sense that he was a likable 5th-century missionary that got a holiday named after him, fine. (I feel like they were handing a lot of holidays out back then.) But where’s the jolly, whimsical, gold-guarding leprechaun we’ve all come to love and dedicate irresponsible drinking to?! I’ll tell you where: at the end of a double-rainbow full of LIES.

I know, it’s a lot to take in. I didn’t want to believe it either, but the proof was right there in my triple-thick McDonald's shake. I got into a heated gold dress/blue dress-ish debate with a friend about what a Shamrock Shake is supposed to taste like. We settled on “blandy-minty-vanilla,” but it raised a much more important question: what is a shamrock? A few minutes of Wiki-research and several drinks later, I uncovered the ugly truth: it’s just a f#$king clover.

I felt so stupid. I remember processing this sobering information between keg-stands, cogently wondering, “If shamrocks aren’t real or whatever, then is ANYTHING real? Is thish’ the Irish MATRIX?!” (Author's note: If you ever come across an Irishversion of the “The Matrix,” please contact me immediately.)

Later on, I started digging for more about Patty himself. Each one of his miraculous feats sounded more and more inside job. Banished all of Ireland’s snakes? Turned his walking stick into a living tree? I know a con artist versed in the art of tree planting and pest control when I see one. 

I know how you feel. It’s like finding out the truth all over again about Santa (fake/Coca-Cola-owned), or the tooth fairy (Dad’s selling your teeth again). There’s nothing more embarrassing than realizing a holiday you’ve passionately celebrated is a hoax. That, and that you’ve pretty much based everything you know about all Irish culture off a single commercialized holiday. They got us both, pal!

It’s time to face the Irish facts. We’re never going to meet the Lucky Charms guy. Banshees aren’t real monsters, and they make for shitty X-Men characters. And the "The Boondock Saints" was a great film, but the sequel is really, really bad in real life.

It’s all a sham. I guess we’ll have to find some other reason to drink.

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