The Crappening....

Yes, it finally happened. I suppose it was overdue really. I kept telling people that I was in fact a writer but I had never in earnest put any of my thoughts to paper, or computer screen for that matter but I really had things to say right? Lets evaluate my personal criteria for beginning a blog in the first place:

1.) Were you told to do so for school or some kind or assignment for class? (No I wasn't)
2.) Did something dramatic or major happen in your life? (No it didn't)
3.) Are you severely injured or incapacitated or confined to a hospital bed where the only thing that you can reach with your two remaining fingers is a laptop? (No, not yet anyway)

So then why did I begin a blog then? To be perfectly honest, I really don't know but as best as I can tell it has something to do with that fact that both, a.) I find my musings to be, well a-musing and b.) I often come up with things that I either think are clever or interesting and I usually forget them before writing then down somewhere. This way at least maybe I will be able to organize my thoughts in some coherent fashion.

If you question my motives then not to worry, for so do I but could you really doubt someone who had the courage and gumption to create and then relate a poem such as this?

“Irish People”

The Irish are a proud sort of people.
Here’s the church and here’s the steeple.
Religion often has ties to profession.
You kill a man and you’ve got confession.
“Father, I admit that I killed twenty men.”
“Ten Hail Mary’s and don’t do it again.”

The Irish have many foods in their diet
Guinness and potatoes, “Shut up and be quiet”
“You poke holes in the bread so the ferries come out”
A crazy old adage my grandmother would spout
When the food is served up and the plates go around,
You’d better eat fast or be beat to the ground

If the Irish have weakness, it lies in the drinking
Ten pints in the pub and you stumble home stinking
The wife yells, “Where’ve you been?” you shout “What’s it to you?”
You’re looking to fight but you suddenly spew
A good many men must have called for the cab
To think kissing a rock would bring ‘gift of the gab’

To the Irish the family was their life
No less than ten babies came out of the wife
Birth control, what a silly thought
Safe sex is a phrase I was never taught
Ten children and they all slept in drawers
“You want me to beat you, get back to your chores”

Recently the Irish have not been well presented
Colin Farrell’s a man whore and largely resented
Bono has his cowboy hats and his sunglasses
Our only redeeming trait is Angela’s Ashes
But in all honesty Ireland is the place to be
Just drink several pints and I’m sure you’ll agree