An Apology For The Events of March 17th, 2012

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Having just woken up from the stupor of St. Patricks Day, a whole four days after the fact, it appears that operation “Get Drunk. Start Fights. Be Awesome!” was a resounding success. However it also appears that, like most of my ill conceived schemes, apologies are in order. With that in mind.

To the owners and patrons of O’Flannigan’s pub,

Though we all understand that St. Patrick’s day is one of the few days on the calendar where the American populace is given carte blanche to get shitfaced and generally act like a bucket of retards; I feel that I may have taken things a bit too far. I was hoping that a little time and an apology might clear the air and put us back on better footing. In that vein I am so very sorry for the following things:

Dodge Darts
Darts suck. There, I said it. All I was trying to do was spice up everyone’s night. In retrospect I probably should have informed everyone else that we were playing dodge darts. My bad.

Mistaking that Mickey’s malt liquor display stand for a leprechaun
I realize now that it was only the cardboard cut out of a leprechaun, provided by the fine folks at Mickey’s Malt Liquor, for advertising and promotional purposes; but at the time it seemed perfectly logical to find a leprechaun in an Irish bar on St. Patrick’s day. I’d like to express my sincerest apologies to anyone who was offended by my forty five minute, profanity laden tirade as I tried discern the location of his pot of gold by “any means necessary”. Also I’m sorry about threatening to water board him with a Playskool “My First Torture” kit; that’s… that’s not a real thing.

Having no clue about your culture
Honestly I don’t really understand much about the Irish culture. I thought that the crowd would enjoy House of Pain’s “Jump Around”. I’ll admit that twenty times in a row might have been a little excessive. I thought it was your people’s national anthem. Also I know now that Saint Patrick is not “Irish Jesus”. Again, all these things…my bad.

though I’m pretty sure this guy is your prime minister – the Ginger…not the monkey

Having no clue about other cultures
Kilts.  The Scottish wear kilts, not “sissy ass fighting skirts.”  Again, in retrospect, it was irresponsible of me to assume that there would be no Scotsmen in your bar. It was more irresponsible of me to ask the one Scotsman who was dressed in full regalia if he was the Fairy Godmother of Lumberjacks. Also it was inappropriate to attempt to use the ‘Leprechaun’ as a human shield.

My attempt at being an Irish good luck charm
No one wants to kiss my “Blarney Stone”, regardless of how many times I make it perfectly clear that it’s a double entendre and motion vigorously at my crotch.

For all these things, and more that I can not remember, I am truly sorry.  I promise that I will act with more dignity and self control when I return to your establishment for your Fourth of July “Booze, Boobs and Bombs Bonanza”. That event seems right up my alley.

word to your moms, i came to drop bombs


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