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March 17, 2009

St. Paddy's Day Jokes

To help celebrate St. Paddy's day, a few Irish jokes from my Inbox:

Into a Belfast pub comes Paddy Murphy, looking like he'd just been run over by a train. His arm is in a sling, his nose is broken, his face is cut and bruised and he's walking with a limp.

"What happened to you?" asks Sean, the bartender.

" Jamie O'Conner and me had a fight," says Paddy.

" That little shit, O'Conner," says Sean, "He couldn't do that to you, he must have had something in his hand."

" That he did," says Paddy, "a shovel is what he had, and a terrible lickin' he gave me with it."

" Well," says Sean, "you should have defended yourself, didn't you have something in your hand?"

" That I did," said Paddy, "Mrs. O'Conner's breast, and a thing of beauty it was, but useless in a fight."

**********************************************************************
Brenda O'Malley is home making dinner, as usual, when Tim Finnegan arrives at her door. "Brenda, may I come in?" he asks. "I've somethin' to tell ya".

" Of course you can come in, you're always welcome, Tim. But where's my husband?"

" That's what I'm here to be telling ya, Brenda." There was an accident down at the Guinness brewery..."

"Oh, God no!" cries Brenda. "Please don't tell me."

" I must, Brenda. Your husband Shamus is dead and gone. I'm sorry."
Finally, she looked up at Tim. "How did it happen, Tim?"

" It was terrible, Brenda. He fell into a vat Of Guinness Stout and drowned."

"Oh my dear Jesus! But you must tell me the truth, Tim. Did he at least go quickly?"

"Well, Brenda... no. In fact, he got out three times to pee."

**********************************************************************

Mary Clancy goes up to Father O' Grady after his Sunday morning service, and she's in tears.

He says, " So what's bothering you, Mary my dear?"

She says, "Oh, Father, I've got terrible news . My husband passed away last night."

The priest says, "Oh, Mary, that's terrible. Tell me, Mary, did he have any last requests?"

She says, "That he did, Father."
The priest says, "What did he ask, Mary? "
She says, He said, 'Please Mary, put down that damn gun...'


**********************************************************************

Paddy was driving down the street in a sweat because he had an important meeting and couldn't find a parking place.

Looking up to heaven he said, 'Lord take pity on me. If you find me a parking place I will go to Mass every Sunday for the rest of me life and give up me Irish Whiskey!'

Miraculously, a parking place appeared.

Paddy looked up again and said, 'Never mind, I found one.'

Father Murphy walks into a pub in Donegal, and asks the first man he meets, 'Do you want to go to heaven?'

The man said, 'I do, Father.'

The priest said, 'Then stand over there against the wall.'

Then the priest asked the second man, 'Do you want to go to heaven?'
'Certainly, Father,' the man replied.

'Then stand over there against the wall,' said the priest.

Then Father Murphy walked up to O'Toole and asked, 'Do you want to go to heaven?'

O'Toole said, 'No, I don't Father.'

The priest said, 'I don't believe this. You mean to tell me that when you die you don't want to go to heaven?'

O'Toole said, 'Oh, when I die , yes. I thought you were getting a group together to go right now.'

Paddy was in New York .
He was patiently waiting and watching the traffic cop on a busy street crossing. The cop stopped the flow of traffic and shouted, 'Okay, pedestrians.' Then he'd allow the traffic to pass.
He'd done this several times, and Paddy still stood on the sidewalk.
After the cop had shouted, 'Pedestrians!' for the tenth time, Paddy went over to him and said, 'Is it not about time ye let the Catholics across?'

Gallagher opened the morning newspaper and was dumbfounded to read in the obituary column that he had died. He quickly phoned his best friend, Finney.

'Did you see the paper?' asked Gallagher. 'They say I died!!'

'Yes, I saw it!' replied Finney. 'Where are ye callin' from?'

An Irish priest is driving down from Boston to New York and gets stopped for speeding in Connecticut .

The state trooper smells alcohol on the priest's breath and then sees an empty wine bottle on the floor of the car.

He says, 'Sir, have you been drinking?'

'Just water,' says the priest.

The trooper says, 'Then why do I smell wine?'

The priest looks at the bottle and says, 'Good Lord! He's done it again!'

Walking into the bar, Mike said to Charlie the bartender, 'Pour me a stiff one - just had another fight with the little woman.'

'Oh yeah?' said Charlie, 'And how did this one end?'

'When it was over,' Mike replied, 'She came to me on her hands and knees.'

'Really,' said Charles, 'Now that's a switch! What did she say?'

She said, 'Come out from under the bed, you little chicken.'

Patton staggered home very late after another evening with his drinking buddy, Paddy. He took off his shoes to avoid waking his wife, Kathleen.

He tiptoed as quietly as he could toward the stairs leading to their upstairs bedroom, but misjudged the bottom step.

As he caught himself by grabbing the banister, his body swung around and he landed heavily on his rump.

A whiskey bottle in each back pocket broke and made the landing especially painful.
Managing not to yell, Patton sprung up, pulled down his pants, and looked in the hall mirror to see that his butt cheeks were cut and bleeding.
He managed to quietly find a full box of Band-Aids and began putting a Band-Aid as best he could on each place he saw blood.
He then hid the now almost empty Band-Aid box and shuffled and stumbled his way to bed.

In the morning, Patton woke up with searing pain in both his head and butt and Kathleen staring at him from across the room.
She said, 'You were drunk again last night weren't you?'

Patton said, 'Why you say such a mean thing?'

'Well,' Kathleen said, 'it could be the open front door, it could be the broken glass at the bottom of the stairs, it could be the drops of blood trailing through the house, it could be your bloodshot eyes, but mostly ..... it's all those Band-Aids stuck on the hall mirror.

Thanks to DL Sly and spd for the laughs. Feel free to add to the collection in the comments section.

Posted by Cassandra at March 17, 2009 11:10 AM

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Paddy was tooling along the road one fine day when the local policeman, a friend of his, pulled him over.

"What's wrong, Seamus?" Paddy asked.

"Well didn't ya know, Paddy, that your wife fell out of the car about five miles back?" said Seamus.

"Ah, praise The Almighty!" Paddy replied with relief. "I thought I'd gone deaf!"

Posted by: Cassandra at March 17, 2009 11:42 AM

Mary O'Rourke likes to take a lover during the day while her husband is at work. One day her 9 year old son comes home from school unexpectedly, so she puts the boy in the closet and shuts the door. A few minutes later Mr. O'Rourke also comes home unexpectedly, so she shoves her lover into the same closet with her son.

A few moments pass and then little boy says quietly, "It's dark in here." The man says, "That it is, lad." The boy then says - "I have a skateboard."

Man: That's nice.
Boy: Do you want to buy it?
Man: Um, no thanks.
Boy: My Dad's right outside.
Man: How much for the skateboard?
Boy: 500 quid.
Man: Done.

A few weeks later it happens again, and once more the boy and the lover are in the closet togeether.

Boy: It's dark in here.
Man: Yes, lad, it is that.
Son: I have a skateboard helmet.
Man: (sighing) How much?
Boy: 200 quid.
Man: Fine.

A few days later the Mr. O'Rourke asks his son to show him how well he rides his skateboard.
His son says, "I can't. I sold my skateboard and helmet."
Mr O'Rourke: Sold them did you? Well how much did you get5 for them?
Boy: About 700 quid.
Mr. O'Rourke: What? 700 quid! That's way more than those things cost! You shouldn't be ripping your friends off like that! I'm taking you to church and you'll confess to this sin.

Mr. O'Rourke and the boy went immdiately to the church, whereupon the father pushes the boy into the confessional and closes the door.

Boy: It's dark in here.
Priest: Don't you dare start with crap again, boy.

Posted by: spd rdr at March 17, 2009 02:03 PM

I did *not* see that one coming, mr rdr :p

Posted by: Men in Tights at March 17, 2009 02:05 PM

Q: What's an Irishman's 7-course meal?

A: A six-pack and a potato!

*****

Q: What do you call an Irishman with a switchblade and a .38?

A: A pacifist!


*****

Q: What's 7 miles long, has 36,000 legs, and smells like beer, piss and stale vomit?

A: the St. Patrick's day parade in Boston!


*****

One day, God and Jesus were discussing the places that they were working on in the creation. God tells Jesus about this island he's been working on.

"It's beautiful," he says. "There's mountains, and valleys, and rivers ... there will be beautiful women and brave men to live there, fish in abundance, and sheep to make the finest woolens, and there will be fields of barley, from which they will make the finest beers and whiskies ever to be brewed on earth! And it will be called Ireland!"

"Dad, don't you think you're stacking the deck a bit in their favor?" asked Jesus.

"Stackingn the deck? Hell no! Just wait until you see the neighbors I'm gonna give 'em!"


Posted by: Rusty at March 17, 2009 02:52 PM

At the National Art Gallery in Dublin, a husband and wife were staring at a portrait that had them completely confused.

The painting depicted three black men totally naked sitting on a park bench. Two of the figures had black willies, but the one in the middle had a pink willie. The curator of the gallery realized they were having trouble interpreting the painting and offered his assessment.

He went on for over half an hour explaining how it depicted the sexual emasculation of African-Americans in a predominately white, patriarchal society “In fact,” he pointed out, “some serious critics believe that the pink willie also reflects the cultural and sociological oppression experienced by gay men in contemporary society.”

After the curator left, an Irishman approached the couple and said, “Would you like to know what the painting is *really* about?”

“Now why on earth would you claim to be more of an expert than the curator at the gallery?” asked the couple.

“Because I’m the guy who painted it!” he replied. Lowering his voice conspiratorially, he told them, "In fact, there's not a single African-American in that painting."

[wait for it...]


They’re just three Irish coal-miners."

"The gent in the middle went home for lunch.”

Posted by: Cassandra at March 17, 2009 05:13 PM

An Irish man is having a pint er a few in a pub one evenin' when in walks three Englishmen.

The men sit down, and decide that it would be great fun to anger the Irishman.

To this end, the first Englishman says, "Watch this..." And over he walks to the Irishman. "Hey man, I hear your St. Paddy was poof." The Irishman just replies, "Oh, is that so now?" Perplexed, the Englishman returns to his seat.

The second Englishman jumps up and says, "Here, lemme try that." So over he goes to the Irishman and says, "Hey man, I hear your St. Patrick was a transvestite poof!" The Irishman replies, "Oh, is that so now?" yet continues to address his ale. Frustrated, the Englishman returns to his seat with his friends.

The third Englishman jumps up and says, "Well, now, I gotta try that!" So he walks over to the Irishman and says, "Hey, I hear your St. Patrick was an ENGLISHMAN!" to which the Irishman replies, "Aye, that's what your friends were a sayin."

Posted by: bthun at March 17, 2009 05:31 PM

One of my Pop's favorites:

An Irishman, a Frenchman and an American go into a pub for a drink. The American orders a pint of ale, the Frenchman a glass of wine and the Irishman orders a glass of whiskey. Not long after the bartender delivers their drinks, the American notices a fly in his beer. Dipping his fingers into his beer, he fishes out the fly, flings it to the ground and orders another beer.

The Frenchman soon notices that there is a fly in his wine. Digustedly, he pushes his glass away and orders a replacement.

Moments later, the Irishman notices a fly in his whiskey. He gently scooped up the fly between two fingers, lifted it out of the glass and said, "Spit it out ya little bastard!"

0>;~}

Posted by: DL Sly at March 17, 2009 07:12 PM

An Irishman, after a long evening in the pub, takes his friends home at closing time. As the come to his cottage, he asks his friends’ attention and informs them that his youngest son was unfortunately born without ears, and warns them not to make any mention of this to avoid hurting the lad’s tender feelings.

Upon introduction, the first says to the boy “Ah, will you look at the fine strong legs on the lad. You must always take care of your legs, for you may grow to be a fine athlete or mountain climber, and bring honor on your family and your country.”

The father nods approval.

The second shakes the lad’s hand and says “What a strong grip the young man has! You must take care of such fine hands, for you’re obviously meant to be an artist or musician with such a wonderful gift.”

The father wipes away a tear, and nods thanks to his friend.

The third guy looks deeply into the boy’s eyes and says “Oh Saints preserve us. Will you see the piercing blue eyes on this young fella. You know you must take every care of such fine eyes, for you’ve the talent to see far, and perhaps be a great statesman and scholar. And if you ever need glasses, you’re fooked.”

Posted by: Rob at March 17, 2009 08:06 PM

****************************

Paddy walks into a corner pub. The bartender says, "You must be new in town. I've never seen you in here before."

Paddy: "I just moved here. I'd like three ales please."

The bartender give him one.

Paddy: "No, I'd like three at one time."

Bartender: "Why do you do that?"

Paddy: "My two brothers and I agreed to do that to keep up our tradition of drinking together."

About a month later, Paddy walks in and orders only two beers.

The bartender: "Oh, my condolences on your brother's passing."

Paddy: "He's not dead. I just quit drinking."


***********************************

Posted by: casel21 at March 17, 2009 08:11 PM

Paddy was at home one day on his day off when his wife came to him in a fury. "Ah, you lazy man, you're always laying about whenever you get a day to yourself," she said. "Well, not this time. I've invited your boss and his wife over for dinner. One of us has to show a little spirit about trying to get you a raise someday. Now we've got to show them something civilized! Hurry down to the beach and collect snails. I'm going to make escargot. Get a good foot under you! We'll need to rush if the dinner's to be ready on time."

So Paddy was hustled out of the house with a pail, and sent off down to the beach. There he is picking up snails, when along comes his friend Thomas. "Hey, Paddy!" calls Thomas. "Have you time for a pint?"

"Ah, well..." answers Paddy. "You know, I have."

So along about midnight here comes Paddy stumbling back, knowing he's in trouble. He tries to slip in, but as he's crossing the threshold he trips. Drunk as he is, he goes head over heels, the snails flying everywhere, and the pail clattering to the floor.

His wife comes storming around the top of the stairs, just as he's getting to his feet. Even as he does, though, a flash of inspiration strikes him and he throws his arm forward and shouts to the snails:

"Keep a comin', boys! We're almost there!"

Posted by: Grim at March 17, 2009 08:49 PM

Irish Blessing

May you always walk in sunshine.
May you never want for more.
May Irish angels rest their wings right beside your door.

Irish Blessing

May the Irish hills caress you.
May her lakes and rivers bless you.
May the luck of the Irish enfold you.
May the blessings of Saint Patrick behold you.

Irish Blessing
May you have warm words on a cold evening, a full moon on a dark night, and the road downhill all the way to your door.

Irish Blessing
May you live to be a hundred years,
With one extra year to repent.

Stephen Braveheart
In order to find his equal, an Irishman is forced to talk to God.

St. Patrick
May the strength of God pilot us, may the wisdom of God instruct us, may the hand of God protect us, may the word of God direct us. Be always ours this day and for evermore.

Edna O'Brien
When anyone asks me about the Irish character, I say look at the trees. Maimed, stark and misshapen, but ferociously tenacious.

Jonathan Swift
May you live all the days of your life.

Old Celtic Blessing
May the blessing of light be on you--
light without and light within.
May the blessed sunlight shine on you
and warm your heart
till it glows like a great peat fire.

Irish Blessing
May St. Patrick guard you wherever you go, and guide you in whatever you do – and may his loving protection be a blessing to you always.

Irish Saying
Leprechauns, castles, good luck and laughter.
Lullabies, dreams and love ever after.
A thousand welcomes when anyone comes...
That's the Irish for You!

Chaucey Olcott and George Graff, Jr.
When Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure 'tis like the morn in spring.
In the lilt of Irish laughter
You can hear the angels sing
When Irish hearts are happy
All the world seems bright and gay
And when Irish eyes are smiling
Sure, they steal your heart away.

Posted by: Irish wit and wisdom at March 17, 2009 08:50 PM

Posted by: Irish wit and wisdom at March 17, 2009 08:52 PM

As soon as she had finished convent school, a bright young girl named Lena shook the dust of Ireland off her shoes and made her way to New York where before long, she became a successful performer in show business.

Eventually she returned to her home town for a visit and on a Saturday night went to confession in the church she had always attended as a child. In the confessional, Father Sullivan recognized her and began asking her about her work.

She explained that she was an acrobatic dancer, and he wanted to know what that meant. She said she would be happy to show him the kind of thing she did on stage. She stepped out of the confessional and within sight of the good Irish father she went into a series of cartwheels, leaping splits, handsprings and backflips.

Kneeling near the confessional waiting their turn, were two middle-aged ladies. They witnessed Lena's acrobatics with wide eyes, and one said to the other:

"Will you just look at the penance Father Sullivan is givin' out this night, and me without me bloomers on!"

Posted by: Cass at March 17, 2009 09:23 PM

Paddy emigrated to America and was enthusiastic in his praises of the new land in his first letter home.

Mother, this is indeed the Land of Opportunity.

I spent all of last week tearing down a Protestant Church and would you believe it they PAID me for it!

Posted by: Dan Kauffman at March 18, 2009 03:48 AM

Paddy, Sean and Seamus, were stumbling home from the pub late one night and found themselves on the road which led past the old graveyard.

"Come have a look over here," says Paddy, "It's Michael O'Grady's grave, God bless his soul. He lived to the ripe old age of 87."

"That's nothing," says Sean, "here's one named Patrick O'Toole, it says here that he was 95 when he died."

Just then, Seamus yells out, "Good God, here's a fella that got to be 145!"

"What was his name?" asks Paddy. Seamus stumbles around a bit, awkwardly lights a match to see what else is written on the stone marker, and exclaims,

"Miles, from Dublin."

Posted by: BillT at March 18, 2009 04:29 AM

Aye yay yay... :p

Posted by: Cass at March 18, 2009 04:31 AM

Pat and Mike were walking down the sidewalk, when Pat dropped back for moment. When he caught up with Mike, he was wiping his hands with his handkerchief and muttering under his breath.

"If Oi ever find him, Oi'll break him in two!"

"And who is that, Pat?" asked Mike.

"The son-of-a-bitch who spits like a quarter!"

Posted by: Rich Rostrom at March 18, 2009 05:13 AM

What? You were expecting maybe

An Irishman, an Englishman and a Scot were sitting in a bar -- the view was fantastic, the beer excellent, and the food exceptional.

"Y'know," said the Scotsman, "I still prefer the pubs back home. In Glasgow, there's a wee bar called MacTavish's. Now, the barman there goes
out of his way for the locals so much that when you buy four drinks, he will buy the fifth drink for you."

"Well," said the Englishman, "at my local, the Red Lion, the landlord there will buy you your third drink after you buy the first two."

"Ahhh, that's nuttin," said the Irishman. "Back home in Dublin there's O'Driscoll's Bar. See you, the moment you set foot in the place they'll buy you a drink, then another, all the drinks you like. Then, when you've had enough to drink, they'll take you upstairs and see that you get laid. All on the house."

"Really?" asked the Englishman. "Did this actually happen to you?"

"Not me, meself, personally, no, more's the pity!" said the Irishman. "But it *did* happen to me sister."

Posted by: BillT at March 18, 2009 05:17 AM

Hmmm... sounds suspiciously like Frat Row where I went to school...

The Irish are generous folk :p

Posted by: Cass at March 18, 2009 06:06 AM

*exercising restraint despite curiosity about the upstairs decor*

Posted by: BillT at March 18, 2009 07:24 AM

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzt!

Posted by: bthun at March 18, 2009 08:02 AM

" it's imperative to follow your conscience, and also that sometimes, all it takes is one person to say, "No, this isn't right" to bring people to their senses.

And other times, you're just being tiresome :p"

*Raises mug of coffee in a toast from one stick-in-the-mud to the Princess*

BTW, does anyone around here know if there is a maximum daily dosage of defibrillator?

Posted by: bthun at March 18, 2009 09:07 AM

Here are some John F Kerryman jokes. The Kerryman holds the same position in Irish humor as does the Irishman in English jokes, the Texas Aggie in jokes told by University of Texas people,and the Pastuso in Colombian jokes.

Posted by: Boludo Tejano at March 18, 2009 09:46 AM

BTW, does anyone around here know if there is a maximum daily dosage of defibrillator?

About six pints. After that you're just wasting your money in the loo.

Posted by: paddy o'rdr at March 18, 2009 10:00 AM

I never really understood why any guy would go after someone else's girlfriend, but there it is.

*sigh*

A perfectly good joke thread -- plunged into the existential despair of sex and relationships...

Posted by: BillT at March 18, 2009 11:10 AM

"A perfectly good joke thread -- plunged into the existential despair of sex and relationships..."
*moving from left to right using exaggerated gestures inside monitor, little French fellow in white face, dressed in black beret, black/white horizontal striped shirt and black slacks, moves with palms extended, finally falling to bottom of screen, places head in hands and sighs*

Meanwhale a besotted Irishman waners over with the fallowing sign on 'is back,

"Gud Irish lad seeking blonde, double-jointed, 20 year old, supermodel, who owns her own brewery, and has an open-minded twin sister."

Posted by: Monsieur Existential Mime at March 18, 2009 12:39 PM

Dude, if you can't find 'teh funny' in sex (and/or relationships) you're doing it wrong. :-)

Posted by: Yu-Ain Gonnano at March 18, 2009 01:32 PM

"Just wait until you see the neighbors I'm gonna give 'em!"

That reminds me of a clever t-shirt I saw at a Highlands Games:

First there were the Scots who kept the Sabbath and everything else they could lay their hands on.

Then there were the Welsh who prayed on their knees and their neighbors.

Next, there were the Irish who never knew what they wanted, but were willing to fight for it anyway.

Lastly, there were the English who considered themselves a self-made nation, thus absolving the Almighty of an awesome responsibility.

Posted by: pst314 at March 18, 2009 02:19 PM

That's particularly funny to me, since I have all four strains (Scots, Irish, Welsh, and English) in my family tree :p

Posted by: Cass at March 18, 2009 02:22 PM

That's particularly funny to me, since I have all four strains (Scots, Irish, Welsh, and English) in my family tree

Small wonder that you are a poet.

Posted by: spd rdr at March 18, 2009 08:05 PM

You are very kind, spd.

Certainly, I love words. Some might say I'm so fond of them that I spend them like a drunken sailor :p

Posted by: Princess Leia in a Cheese Danish Bikini at March 18, 2009 08:40 PM

College was fun. I got to live in the coed dorms, much to the shock of the people in my local congregation. There were only two floors for the girls, and the rest of the dorm was for the sweaty men.

Of course, we had to keep the football players in line. This was easy, as we gave them lessons in inductive reasoning.

To illustrate: My room is above a jock's. We bang on the radiator and said jock pokes his head out of the window to look up at yon maidens. (I had three roommates) We had a water spray bottle and gently squirted them three times. They vowed vengeance, but couldn't find our room and someone distracted them with beer.

We did this four times, once a week. They finally figured out that if we banged on the radiator, they would get squirted. First lesson in inductive reasoning accomplished.

Halloween came. We banged on the radiator. They poked their heads out and up. We showered them with Hershey's kisses. We did this four times.

First lesson in deductive reasoning accomplished. Whenever we banged on the radiator at a certain time, they knew they were in for something.

And people say football players are dumb.

Posted by: Cricket at March 18, 2009 11:56 PM

Dude, if you can't find 'teh funny' in sex (and/or relationships) you're doing it wrong.

Well, there's always been something of amusement value in most of my relationships -- even if it didn't appear so at the time...

Posted by: BillT at March 19, 2009 03:55 AM

Is that why you know about the existentialist despair?

Posted by: Lucy Van Pelt at March 19, 2009 09:42 AM

Geez, why do you think I *chose* that phrase?

Posted by: Diogenes of Sinope at March 19, 2009 12:23 PM

The truth about existentialist despair is that it either exists, or it doesn't, depending on your point of view.

In the first instance, this fact may depress you, as the poisoned intrigues of all humanity are clearly arrayed against you. That little voice in your head? It hates you.

Embracing the second instance, however, relieves you from all of your own contributions to the universal faults of humanity causing such unremitting horror in the first instance. Unfortunately, the mere knowledge of this fact may completely depress you, as it extinguishes any outside cause for you own misery, leaving you suddenly all alone. In the dark. In the rain.

Which brings us back to doh (doh doh doh doh)!

One of these days Charlie is going to kick Lucy right in the slats.

Posted by: spd rdr at March 19, 2009 04:52 PM

Look who we found...
in the park...
in the dark...

We will take him home.
We will call him, "Clark".

He will live in our closet.
He will grow and grow.
Will our Mother like this?
We don't know.

Posted by: Dr. Seuss at March 19, 2009 05:04 PM

In the park?
In the dark?
In a closet?
In the budget?

Will our people like this?
We don't want to know.

Posted by: Dr. Barney at March 19, 2009 05:13 PM

Nothing like the lads from 1MMR keeping an Irish lass in the uptake spaces till she could not stand the heat....yeah, that was a cruise to remember.....

I can still hear the BT3 telling the MMC, "We were just trying to help her get home Chief."

Posted by: Barack's Teleprompter at March 19, 2009 05:47 PM

We never did such things either in Mr. Carter's puddle-squat, nor in Mr. Reagan's Navy. We were the best, most assiduously correct military servants that haed ever manned any flotilla before, or since. We beat the Commies, fair and unsquared.

And her name was Eileen, you insensitive brute.

Posted by: spd rdr at March 19, 2009 06:35 PM

"Nothing like the lads from 1MMR keeping an Irish lass in the uptake spaces till she could not stand the heat....yeah, that was a cruise to remember....."
That just *had* to be on Miss USS Kitty Hawk. Although the mention of the event does fire some long dead synaptic pathways in the gray regions around 1972... OUCH!

Posted by: bthun at March 19, 2009 08:13 PM

You gentleman scare me sometimes.

Posted by: Cassandra at March 19, 2009 08:53 PM

Ya have to understand, Boiler Techs and Machinists Mates had to meet an abused as children prerequisite to fill that rate. Then they wound up living and working in the dark, damp, noisy, steamy, greasy, bowels of the vessels. IOW, they pretty much had air-tight insanity defenses regardless of any offense they might commit. =;^}

Posted by: bthun at March 19, 2009 09:03 PM

That little voice in your head? It hates you.

Tell me about it. First it starts with, "Hi! Got room for one more in there?" and before you know it, the in-laws and cousins are running around inside playing tennis-ball tag...

Posted by: BillT at March 20, 2009 07:03 AM

> " That I did," said Paddy, "Mrs. O'Conner's breast, and a thing of beauty it was, but useless in a fight."

I've heard this one without the "Irish" note, as a courtroom drama regarding an assault case -- the "And what did YOU have in YOUR hand, Mr. Roberts?" from the defense attorney is the punch-line setup.

Posted by: Obloodyhell at March 25, 2009 03:42 PM

Early one morning a young Irishman was out on the links, getting in an early round of Golf. It's a bit cold and early in the season, and very early in the day, so he's pretty much the only person to be found on the course. But was too glorious an Irish day to be staying inside, so he dressed up warm and went out at dawn's early light to get in a quick round of eighteen.

Around the seventh hole, he drives a shot which hooks well off the fairway and into the rough near some trees. To his horror, he spies a very small man standing in the rough, who is struck by his errant shot.

He rushes down to see the man, scared that he might be hurt. He looks him over, and sees that he is, indeed, very short, about three feet tall. He slaps his face gently to awaken him, and he comes to.

"What happened?"

"Ay, I hook'd me shot, and it struck yer o'er here on th' rough! I'm woefully sorry about that, and hope yer ok."

The small man felt his head, and, feeling the knot, said, "Faith and begorrah, I ne'er saw it comin! But I'm fine and all that, now."

"I'm glad to hear it, t'would weigh heavily on my conscience if ye'd gotten hurt by my bad golf."

"Lad, yer impressin' me as a fine young Irishmen, and a credit to Ireland. I'll tell ye me secret -- I'm actually a leprechaun, and I'll give ye a wish, just for being such a great example for the Irish everywhere!"

Thinking the small man slightly addled, he said, "Well, are ye certain ye're ok? I feel dreadful about hittin' ye without even a warning. I thought I was all alone out here, and wasn't e'en shoutin' 'Fore!' in warnin'."

"No, no, laddy, it's all fine."

"Well, I need to go, though, if you're all right. Are ye sure ye don't need any help?"

Startled by the man's failure to take him up on his offer, the Leprechaun said, "No, no, lad, I'm fine. Off with ye'!! Ye've got a lot of holes to go through to get ye're game done!"

The man smiles and, standing up, plays through.

As he sees the golfer walk away, the Leprechaun says to himself, "No' THAT is a fine Irish lad! I think I'll grant him a wish anyway. Now what would be a good wish for a fine Irish lad, I wonder? I know! A fine, busy sex life, with all the loverly young lasses any man could ask for. That's what I'll gi' 'im!!" And with that, the Leprechaun did whatever Leprechaun's do to grant a wish, and then POP! disappeared in a puff of smoke.

About a year later, same conditions, the young man is out golfing on the same course, when, passing the same seventh hole rough, he spotted the short man and waved hello.

"Ho, lad! How're ye doin'?"

"I'm doing pretty well, as things go."

"And ye're sex life, are ye getting to be wi' the lassies all ye want?

"Well," he says quietly, in a conspiratorial whisper and looking around to see who might be listening, "I get it about once a month or so."

"Once a month!?!? Is that all?"

"Yeah, well, for a priest with a small parish, it's more than you'd expect..."

Posted by: Obloodyhell at March 25, 2009 04:40 PM

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