(This open letter is a follow up to last year’s. Make sure you read that one first, right HERE.)
I thought that I made myself perfectly clear last year as to my feelings regarding this day. Obviously, my words were murky and muddied, so allow me to refine my thoughts in this my second open letter to the day.
The contempt that I feel for this day is so great, I pray to the gods of my ancestors and enemies that they would so their mighty power and removed from the face of the Earth this day, the 17th of March. I pray that each and every day, even though I subscribe to no faith, I can only hope that there is someone with cosmic strength
It doesn’t matter what I do, how much I avoid the presence of the day, I always find myself in a bar. Sometimes I’m picked up and carried there, other times I have been drugged or fooled into drunkenness. And when this has happened the same thing occurs; I become the joke. I become the entertainment.
‘Look at the little man dance.’ ‘Ask him where the end of the rainbow is.’ ‘Where is his pipe?’ Or my personal favourite (not!) ‘Where are your Lucky Charms?’
Dear reader, do me and those like me a huge favour: leave us alone on this day. Do not seek us out. Do not come knocking on my door with your green beer, or Irish accents, or your clovers. We have been overwhelmed by this holiday for so many centuries that we just want to be left alone.
A pox on you Patrick! On you and your silly saintly holiday, and all those that participate in it!
With so much spite in my heart,
Red the Leprechaun