Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Howdy all! As the official namesake of the holiday, it is my sworn duty to declare the day's activities, and this year I want everyone to drink a beer and punch a friend in the face! So, get to it!

What? You didn't know the holiday was named after me and not some mythologized Irishman from days of yore, and that I get to declare the day's festivities accordingly? You're kidding, right?

Well, without getting too into it, here's how it went down.

Originally, this holiday was named for some guy who supposedly drove all of the snakes out of Ireland--a surely memorable if entirely unfathomable event, to be sure. But in the mid-80s, the Society for Holiday Relevance decided that, in fact, the original St. Patrick wasn't all he was cracked up to be. Sure, he was "nice," but he just didn't speak to the new generations of holiday celebrators, most of whom didn't see the need to drive all of the snakes from a country. Most snakes, though still disgusting, are harmless and possibly even helpful if you believe what my wife has to say. So, a worldwide search began to find a new Patrick to name the holiday after.

Of course, this was a very special event and it turned up no end of interesting candidates. Eventually, the Society created a shortlist of special people that the holiday might be renamed after:


Patrick Duffy--Actor extraordinaire, best known for his role on "Step by Step"

Patrick Ewing--Basketball player, best known for his cameo in "Herman's Head"

Pat Morita--Actor, best known for being an available Asian actor for three decades

Patrick Murphy--The Irish Giant, dead for over 100 years, but still cool because of his title

Pat Robertson--Douchebag, but famous douchebag

Pat Sajak--Gameshow Host, known for "selling" very overpriced items to contestants

Patrick Stewart--Actor, best known for playing King Leondegrance in "Excalibur"

Patrick Swayze--Tough Guy, best known for kicking Chuck Norris' ass in my dreams

And me--Patrick Albers--Good Kid, suffering woefully on a farm in the Sticks


I don't think I need to go into my sob story--and I use that phrase not for its melodramatic connotations but because, if you heard my whole story, you would almost certainly be weeping sympathetic tears by the end. But my story is pretty well-established at this point (unless you haven't heard it, in which case, here's an abridged version: I grew up on a farm where I was miserable. That sums it up pretty nicely).

After hearing my full story (and that was just up to about 1985! It was almost certainly worse through later grade school and high school, so I might have had a commemorative month named after me or something if they had just waited until about 1990 to check in. Just think, March probably should be known as Patuary or Patober), the Society's members unanimously decided to make me the new St. Patrick--specifically, I was St. Patrick of St. Leo (because we lived in the "suburbs" of St. Leo at the time, but also because the repeating of the word "saint" seemed to make me sound all that much more important--and who was I to argue? Who else has been double "saint"ed?).

And so, now, it is my job to declare the official activities for the holiday. In the past, I've tried to get creative (No Pants Day for Women, No Shirt Day for Women, No Pants and Shirt Day for Women) with my celebratory edicts, but old age has tempered my desires somewhat. Now, in my honor, I just want to see people get drunk and beat up a friend. That's all. Nothing special.

So, go forth my celebrators! Drink and Punch your way to a happy holiday!