I consolidated the stories about Fred.

HILL BLOCKS VIEW IS DEAD.

...long live, Hill Blocks View. I miss writing. But the thought of one more round of "welcome backs", or obsessing over stats, or thinking of the clever response to a comment, or the obligation to read everyone else's blog... not so much. So I'll try and write. No pressure. If you feel the need to respond, you can email me. I like email. flipaul@yahoo.com

Thursday, September 26, 2013

The Irish Are Truly To Be Admired.

I really admire the Irish. I am mostly a mutt, ethnically, but if I identify with any group of people it would be the Irish. I love the Irish. I mean, I don't like their actual country, it's all rainy and cold and I hate that, but still.
   The only other thing is, what the hell is up with all that red hair? It's seriously spooky; red is not a natural hair color. And they dance like they are reverse paraplegics. That's more than a little weird. Why aren't you moving your arms, Michael Flatley? That dude is freaky, and not in a good way! Speaking of freaky... Bagpipes?! You consider that music? Really?! Oh my goodness, that is just aural torture. But other than all that, I  totally love the Irish.


   Oh, and the Catholicism. The new Pope seems cool and all, but no thank you. I'm totally on Luther's side on this one. All and all, the Irish are lovely, lovely people. Except for the scores of children. G'ah! I can barely stand the ones I have. The last thing I need is ten more. But, aside from that, the Irish rule.
   Oh, and the stereotypical constant fist fighting. Why would somebody enjoy that? I have been hit in the face before, and I have to tell you, I am not a fan. But at least it's better than the suicide, or the potato based cuisine, or the depressingly morbid authors. I can't reiterate enough, I love the Irish.



   But I do love to drink. And the Irish love to drink. That's got to be more than a coincidence. And I plan on converting to Irishdom... Irishnanism... Irishitianity, just as soon as I find out what I need to complete the ritual. I'm pretty sure it involves a Guinness, Sinead O'Connor and a U2 song.