Woo-hoo! Drink more Guinness!
"A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo, and when the herd is hunted, it is the slowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first. This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular killing of the weakest members. In much the same way, the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Excessive intake of alcohol, as we know, kills brain cells. But naturally, it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, making the brain a faster and more efficient machine! That`s why you always feel smarter after a few beers."
Cliff Claven
Do you know the difference between "Bull" and "Blarney?"
It really is just a matter of style.
Example of Bull: Man speaking to an older but still attractive woman - "Sweetheart, you're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen!"
Example of Blarney: Man speaking to same woman - "Tell me darlin, what would be your age so I may know the time in a woman's life when she is most attractive!"
Since my last name is O'M well I have been around some Hell Raisin Irishmen on St Patty's Day!
Corn Beef, Cabbage, Garlic Mash Potatoes, Green Beer and
"Kiss me I'm Irish Buttons" are Traditional! LOL...
Unfortunately, given my wife's ancestry, I'll be "wearin of the ORANGE" on St. Patrick's day.
That's one of the strange things about this holiday... 99% of the people don't understand the implications of wearing green.
Lots of Guinness will be happening at that venue on St. Patrick's Day.
An Irishman, Englishman and a German are caught in Saudi Arabia drinking. "Under Saudi law you are sentenced to 30 lashes then deported. Before you begin you are entitled to something on you back, what would you like?" said the prison guard to the Englishman just before lashing him. The English man, being a bit of a cricket fan, asked for linseed oil. When they lashed him on a post and let him go to catch his flight back to London he groaned and crawled to the airport. Next came the German. "Under Saudi law you are sentenced to 30 lashes then deported. Before you begin you are entitled to something on you back, what would you like?" said the prison guard "Nothing" said the German and, after receiving his lashes spat on the ground, called the prison guards Schisers and started off towards the airport. The guards then came to the Irishman. "Under Saudi law you are sentenced to 30 lashes then deported. Before you begin you are entitled to something on you back, what would you like?" "Oh", replied the Irishman, "I'll take the German".
He tries to stand one more time, same result. He figures he'll crawl outside and get some fresh air and maybe that will sober him up.
Once outside he stands up and falls flat on his face. So he decides to crawl the 4 blocks to his home and when he arrives at the door he stands up and falls flat on his face.
He crawls through the door into his bedroom. When he reaches his bed he tries one more time to stand up.
This time he manages to pull himself upright but he quickly falls right into bed and is sound asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. He awakens the next morning to his wife standing over him shouting at him.
"So, you've been out drinking again!!"
"What makes you say that?" he asks as he puts on an innocent look.
"The pub called, you left your wheelchair there again."
While visiting Ireland many years ago I went to a real Irish pub in Dublin. I ordered a Guinness and just sat at the crowded bar and "drank" in the atmosphere. Pretty soon a man setting next to me, an Irishman, looked at my glass (it was only about an eighth full), then looked at me and said, "You're a Yank". He said it in the form of a statement of fact not a question. I replied that I was and asked how he knew. He said, "Your glass". I questioned how he could tell I was an American by my glass. He said, "Rings! You have 4 soon to be 5 when you finish". I asked him to explain. He took his pint and downed half of the remaining Stout and slammed it to the bar, wiped his lips and said, "One ring, that's the sign of a true Irishman".
Boy,did I get drunk that night, and made a bunch of new friends. I spent 2 days in Dublin and went on to the birthplace of my grandmother, aunts and uncles, and my maternal grandfather and grandmother. It would take a book to describe those 5 days, and many, many pints of Guinness.
Seems that Pat went into a Dublin Pub and ordered three beers. The bartender set them up and Pat downed them and ordered three more. The bartender said they would be better if they were served one at a time.
Pat explained that he had three brothers and before they separated each promised to always have a drink for each other and one had to go to Australia and the other to America. The bartender understood so he served him three more.
Just about this time of year, Pat came in an ordered only two. The bartender was puzzled and he asked Pat if there was a problem with one of his brothers.
Pat said No but I am giving up beer for lent.
A POEM TO ME MUDDER
When me prayers were poorly said
Who tucked me in my widdle bed
And spanked me till my "arse" was red
Me Mudder.
Who took me from my cozy cot
And put me on the ice cold pot
And made me pee if I could not
Me Mudder
And when the morning light would come
And in my crib I’d dribble some
Who wiped my tiny widdle bum
Me Mudder.
And who me hair would neatly part
And hug me gently to her heart
And sometimes squeeze me till I fart
Me Mudder
Who looked at me with eyebrows knit
And nearly had a king sized fit
When in me Sunday pants I $hit
Me Mudder
And when at night the bed did squeak
Me raised me head to have a peek 
Who yelled at me to go to sleep
Me Fodder
BTTT
A bunch of shamrock, an apple and a walk in the afternoon.