On St Patrick’s Day, a group of friends and I were listening to the most insipid set I’d ever heard, at a bar in Allentown, Buffalo- no toes were tapping, and even the rowdiest Poques song was done in a mournful, off-key wail –  when suddenly, a group of five people walked in, setting everyone else on alert.  It wasn’t just the two incredibly drunk men wearing red t-shirts bearing the Polish Orzeł Biały – the white eagle on the crest of Poland – or the two women wearing green t-shirts that asked they be kissed because they weren’t Irish; mostly it was the fifth person.  This guy wore a green shirt with a simple math equation done in symbols and the words “craic agus ceol” (translated from the Irish – craic and music, which essentially means a good time) on it.

The composition of the equation was: an outline of a stout glass with a shamrock in it + an outline of a jigger with, yep, a shamrock in it = an exploding car, with craic agus ceol immediately below it.   At least the designer put only three leafs on each clover. Continue reading “The Drink Needs a New Name” →