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IrishAyes

Profile Information

Gender: Female
Home country: US
Current location: retired to MidWest
Member since: Mon Feb 18, 2013, 09:15 PM
Number of posts: 5,590

About Me

Still an ardent Irish-American Catholic damnYankee Yellow Dog Democrat socialist after all these years. (cue Simon music) Army brat and wife for many years, now have been on the loose far longer than I was married. After my two red chows died, I took in a mini-beagle cross that I named Molly Maguire, thinking she might need a good Irish name like my original real one. Later she got a baby sister, a smooth-coat JRT I named Brigid after the greatest of the ancient Celtic goddesses. My great-grandfather and his son fought for Michael Collins and barely made it out of Ireland one step ahead of John Bull. They slipped over to Wales for new identities and then forward to the States for a fresh start. That makes me second generation of illegal but certainly justified immigrants. There are precious few people to whose defense I fly immediately, but the list includes Hillary Clinton, President Barack Obama even when I disagree with him - it happens! - and living Irish patriots Gerry Adams and Martin \\\'Mind Your Kneecaps\\\' McGuiness. I pray earnestly for a united and free Ireland rescued from all official British occupation, with every square inch of alleged \\\'ancestral lands\\\' now held immorally and illegally by the invaders returned to the rightful owners. Irish-only rule for Ireland. No foreign masters anymore! I find it passing strange when Brits chide ME about \'interfering\' in Irish politics!

Journal Archives

Far as I know,

It hasn't yet been called up, due to Repuke obstructionism of course. But is that any reason for us to sit on our hands and let it die entirely because we didn't beat the drums for it? That would be shooting ourselves in the foot with a gun loaded and handed to us by the opposition. Personally I'm not that self destructive.

And btw, even if it's dead as a door nail at the moment, that needn't stop us from kicking it back to life. No excuse for doom and gloom naysaying - none at all.

That's true, though.

As a teenager I was visiting an aunt when on a Sunday afternoon while everyone else was gone, the preacher at their church stopped by to visit. I had just doused my hair with beer and answered the door smelling like a brewery. We exchanged words. I left soon after.

At least.

Make you a deal: be sure I get a big slice of your carrot cake and a few of Calimary's cookies, and I might, umm... find extra, uh... Berkeley Brownies to pass around.

My mom never had to call any of us twice for dinner.

We learned the first come, first served principle early on. As a result I can reach the table with my knife and fork before most people can blink.

I can't think of a single thing that rum won't improve.

And if you're ever out of rum, try doubling the (real) vanilla. Same taste.

A lady once got very angry because I wouldn't tell her the secret ingredient in what she swore were the best scrambled eggs she ever tasted. (She was a teetotaler and had said exactly the wrong thing to me about the Irish, so this was payback.) I slipped in a shot of rum when she wasn't looking. Most of the alcohol cooks out, but the taste remains.

If you're frying something, beer batter will make it crispier. Beer's great in anything resembling baked goods. But rum, now... rum goes with everything.

And the spark that ignites the masses can never be predicted with certainty -

only that it will happen sooner or later w/o fail. That's one reason I keep signing petitions until my poor little fingers almost fall off - to publicize these things. When I die, I want the teabaggers in this town to hold an exorcism or something because I was such a thorn in their hides. It's all the legacy I could want.

You can tell I'm fresh out of the milk of human kindness at the moment. I keep remembering what Malcolm X said about how it's futile to pursue brotherhood with people who don't want to be your brothers. Right now I'm in a fine fit because one of my few friends around here, a 78-year-old lady, lost her Medicare supplement policy when the company folded. Now she's been convinced that if she buys another policy, she'll be in league with satan because of the ACA. I tried to talk to her but she started to shake even worse and began moaning. Absolute blind terror. So I just shut up and gave her a hug. At a time when her health's failing fast, she's running up a huge tab at the hospital and knows she might not have a house to leave for her daughter.

And she's far from the only person in that condition. THIS IS WHAT THE GODFORSAKEN GOP HAS WROUGHT! I hope they rot in hell if there is one, even if I have to join them there for wishing it. They're MURDERERS.

Bless you too, DI. I remember that occasion.

Yes, Archie did live quite a life, didn't he? But we all have stories to tell. One reason I so loved John Steinbeck is because he could take someone most of us might think of as ordinary, maybe even boring, and then show us how fascinating the character really was. I think 'The Wayward Bus' illustrated this best. Fortunately I found 'East of Eden' to read on the QT when I was only 12, so I didn't have to wade through a lot of drivel posing as literature.

I've never been one to trust blindly,

but with SheShe I'd trust her as much as I could anyone. She never fails a friend. She's also a much nicer person than I am, no doubt about it.

My dogs could give the lessons in human training. They've had me under their thumbs

(well, paws) since the first time I laid eyes on them. Drat! That happens every time I get a new one. I must be a world class pushover. Before Brigid came along and elbowed her way into both our hearts, Molly Maguire used to sit on my lap and have me hand her each morsel from her food bowl and put it directly in her mouth. That was one of the first tricks she taught me, only not the last. She was lonesome for a playmate who could keep up with her better than an old lady, so she guilted me into getting her a sister. She's perfectly capable of wild tussels with her now-much-bigger sister, but when it's time for them to come in, Molly expects me to go out in the yard to pick her up and carry her back indoors in my arms.

I'm beginning to see a trend here....

The French aristocracy never saw it coming either. Neither did the Romanoffs etc.

They never do, even if one of their own - as recently happened - sounds the alarm loud and clear. They are blind with hubris and greed, and ultimately with fear of what they know somewhere down deep is coming. But they respond with denial until the whole thing blows up in their faces, as it surely will. Hard rain's gonna fall one of these days...
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