Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Bycicle Irish?

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In memory of my Mom and my Irish ancestors, saints all, here is a part of a St. Patrick's day tribute by hisself, Tom Roeser, noted Chicago political expert and regular columnist in The Wanderer.

As everything in our country deals with Self, it is not surprising that on the feast of Saint Patrick there is much adulation of the Irish and very little mention of him whose life we are supposed to honor. The celebration of Patrick has been superseded by the Irish celebrating themselves. There is nothing more pagan than this charade here of dying the river green and having all the Irish Catholic Democratic pro-aborts…their Celtic faces puffed with pride…marching purportedly to honor a saint of a church they have no business belonging to since at any other era the whole bunch of them…the mayor, house speaker, senate president, governor, comptroller, attorney general… whole Chicago city council Irish population except the 41st ward’s Republican pro-life alderman Brian Doherty…should have been excommunicated for violation of the center-most stricture that has been in existence since the council of Elvira in A.D. 305.

I wholeheartedly include other faithless ethnic Catholic Democratic groups in this classification but the Irish Dem pols are particularly offensive in their trumpeting of ersatz cafeteria Catholicism: i.e. Catholicism that is all green with no responsibility. Top of the list is Andy Greeley, faithless to his theology to my mind, and for the last 15 years at Mass I pray for him after communion. I can only add that the fractured skull he received when he fell from a taxi while wearing an Obama cap has driven some sense of orthodoxy into his cranium.

Faux Catholicism by the Democratic Irish has been going on for many years. For one thing, their chauvinism drives me mad. Long before any Catholic espoused abortion…as a half-breed (half Irish, half German, named after my maternal grandfather, Thomas F. Cleary who started Joe Gill in the Democratic party…I remember my German father sitting silently while my mother’s Celtic cousins rattled off the kinds of Irish there are. They are, they said: lace curtain Irish, cut-glass Irish, shanty Irish, pig-in-the-parlor Irish.

To which he added: “bicycle Irish.”

Bicycle Irish they said: what kind are they?

To them he growled, “the kind that make your ass tired.”

I have always loved my father but I think I adored him after that. . . . (TomRoeser.com)
[What follows is a tribute to the Saint, himself, St. Patrick]
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