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Posted 3/17/15 (Tue)

Happy St. Patrick’s Day to ya laddie!
As I am married to a Murphy, St. Pat’s Day is one of the holidays that one lest not forget. It ranks above a Murphy birthday or anniversary, and rivals the importance of Christmas.
When Grandpa Jack was spending his final years at the Hilltop Home in Killdeer, on St. Patrick’s Day, he called down to the Buckskin Bar and ordered a keg delivered. He ordered pitchers and green food coloring to color the beer a beautiful Irish green so all the residents could celebrate with him! I’m not sure if it is legal or not in most nursing homes, but in Killdeer, you didn’t doubt Grandpa Jack. The keg was delivered and the home was filled with young Irish men and women once again. Even if only for a day!
Which brings me to the tale of, you guessed it, Paddy.
Well Paddy was sitting in a pub, with a pint of fine Guinness before him. The foam was still spilling over the edge of his cup, when a big, burly biker guy came in through the door. The biker guy looked around, spied wee little Paddy sitting there, and promptly went over, bumped him aside, and drained Paddy’s beer in one tremendous gulp.
Now, Irish lads are brought up tough, and the biker guy expected that brouhaha would ensue. But Paddy just began moaning and crying uncontrollably!
The burly guy watched for a minute, and began to feel a spark of compassion rising from his inner being. As the sobbing continued, he began to apologize to the poor Irishman. “I didn’t mean to upset you so deeply. I mean it was just a beer!”
Paddy wiped his eyes and began to explain. “It wasn’t just the beer! I was feeling kind of sickly this morning and was late to work.”
“Because I was tardy, I missed an important meeting. The boss found out, and promptly fired me. And me, only two weeks from being eligible for my pension. I was devastated. I walked out to the parking lot and found my car had been stolen! No one had seen a thing. And me with no insurance.”
“So I hopped on the bus and caught a ride nearly home. And then discovered I had not the fare! And the bus driver, callous as he was, put me off two blocks from home! As I walked up my drive, my own dog, not expecting me, came charging down the drive and bit me on me leg! And I had saved that dog from the pound, the ungrateful bastard! I walked into the house and there it was, a note from me wife of 30 years, saying she had left with that worthless O’Brien with the big smile! Me heart was going to explode. I couldn’t take it anymore. I decided to end it all. So I came down here and spent me last change on this pint. I put the poison in and was waiting for it to dissolve, and then you laddie, you bump me away and drink it! But enough about me. How are you feeling laddie?”

Erin go Bragh!