Furthermore…

Happy St Paddy’s Day. If I were back in Chicago I could watch them turn the Chicago River a pretty shade of green (instead of its usual sickly green). March 17  was my first day in Chicago, back in 1961, as I made connections on my way to the Army. I saw a bit of a parade. It was only in later years that I saw the  heavy turnout of young drunks taking advantage of an excuse to overdo in the name of a proud people, a people which once earned the respect of America, which the new lot is squandering. I guess there’s some consolation in the hokum that on St Paddy’s Day everyone is Irish; no one can be completely sure that the worst buffoons are truly Irish, or just putting on the Pat-ina.