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March 22, 2019


I apologize profusely! I missed my St. Patrick’s Day column last week. And if you are, as I, married to a Murphy that is a mortal sin.

We all have that one friend that tells us jokes whenever you meet. I have a friend that tells Little Johnny jokes. You know them. The teacher asked little Johnny… Most of them can’t be printed in this fine family newspaper.

But he did tell me one the other day that I can adapt to an Irish story.

Little Johnny Mulligan was sitting on the stoop eating a chocolate bar. Father O’Leary passed by and stopped to visit.

Father began chastising the lad for eating chocolate.

“You know chocolate will cause cavities in your teeth. Laddie, you know that that candy can cause health problems later on in life”

The good Father O’Leary went on and on.

Finally little Johnny Mulligan finished his last bite of chocolate, looked up somberly at Father O’Leary and stated, “My grandpa Timothy Mulligan lived to be 103 years old!”

Father O’Leary was surprised and quickly asked, “Did he eat chocolate?”

“No,” replied little Johnny, “But he minded his own damn business!”

I think St. Patrick’s Day has to rate as one of the greatest holidays ever created. A little corned beef. A little Guinness. A shot of Jameson. Great Irish tales and stories to last unto the wee morn.

But, then maybe because I married an Irish/Norwegian. We start watching the calendar shortly after New Years day. We play tapes of Irish music as Shirley cleans the house and I sample the Guinness. The excitement builds up and sometimes I am sure I see the wee people in the tree row behind our house. Especially if there is a full moon and it is after the midnight hour.

Speaking of the wee people. There was a ventriloquist doing a show in a local pub recently. Upon his knee sat the cutest dummy you ever saw. He was wearin’ the green of Ireland and had a shock of red hair and a face wrinkled up like a prune.

The ventriloquist was visiting and telling jokes on the Irish, much as the people on this island tell stories on the Norwegians.

Frustrated, a big burly Murphy boy jumped up from his pint of Guinness, shaking his fist, and proclaimed for all to hear “You tell one more Irish joke and I’ll flatten that ugly nose of yours!”

Seeing his anger was not to be mistaken, the shaken ventriloquist began to apologize profusely.

Murphy quickly cut him off and exclaimed, “You stay the hell out of this! I’m talking to that red haired wimp on your knee!”

There are several Irish sayings I’d like to leave you with.

“An Irishman is never too drunk as long as there is a blade of grass to hold onto, to keep from falling off the earth!”

“In Ireland it is said there are only two things to worry about. Either you are sick, or you are well. And if you are well, there is nothing to worry about. But if you are sick, there are only two things to worry about. Either you will get well, or you will die. If you get well, there is nothing to worry about. But if you die, there are only two things to worry about. Either you will go to heaven, or you will go to hell. If you go to heaven there is nothing to worry about. And if you go to hell, you will be so busy shaking hands with all your friends, you won’t have time to worry!”

And this one for Shirley. “There are only three kinds of Irish men who don’t understand women. Young men, old men……. And men of middle age!!

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!



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