Last year my daughter, who is a budding film student, decided to take on an acting gig with an Irish theatre company here is South Florida. Although, she doesn’t have any intention of becoming an actor, an understanding of acting is an advantage for someone interested in filmmaking. And for a young girl who had never taken on an acting gig outside of her High School productions, she did a damn good job. But about half way through the five months of rehearsing for the play, she made what I thought was a pretty flabbergasting remark. She said, “I don’t like the Irish.”

Now, for someone whose mom and dad are as Irish as Patty’s pig, I could only stand there with my mouth open and think, “what the fuck?” She clarified: “I don’t mean Irish Americans dad, the Irish from Ireland are really assholes. They are cold, rude and nasty.” I blew it off as just another piece of tripe from a sixteen year olds mouth. But in the last few months I’ve given it some thought and I too am convinced that she is right.

Now don’t get me wrong, I know quite a few Irish folks, from the old sod, who are quite nice. But if I’m going to be really objective about it, they’ve all been here for a couple of years. They still may have a bit of the brogue, but they’re in actuality, quite Americanized.

Just the other night I wondered into the McSorley’s they opened up on Fort Lauderdale Beach. Just too set the record straight, this place only bares resemblance to the McSorley’s in New York in name only. There’s no chicken bones hanging from the chandeliers and I know that James Joyce never set foot into this place. However many wino’s have, it use to be one of the cheapest (and one of the most charming) dumps on Fort Lauderdale Beach, “Banana Joe’s.”

And on this particular night the place was full of a bunch of English Birds all celebrating “Hen’s Night” for one of their lucky (or unlucky, as the case may be) flock. And as most of the English usually do, they we’re having a grand time of it. But behind the bar was another one of those cranky, Irish immigrant bartenders with his head shaved like a bad footballer on crack. This guy had to be one of the most miserable excuses for a bartender I’ve ever run across. I won’t go into details, but the words of my daughter came back to haunt me. And I thought of all of the nasty Irish bastards I’ve run into in the last couple of years. And she was right: They really are the coldest, nastiest, rudest, most insincere bunch of losers I’ve ever run across. The final insult came from the guy when my drunk buddy, celebrating his birthday, left him about 80 bucks for a 75 dollar tab. Not wanting to stiff the guy, I threw in another ten bucks. I handed it over to him and asked him, “Are we good?” He replied: “I guess it will have to be.” You could have knocked me over with a shamrock. So I told him, “In that case, bring me another round.”

My father, god rest his soul, would probably kick my ass for uttering such blasphemous words. His dying wish was to touch the soil of Sligo one more time. But if he we’re alive today to see these pricks from Ireland that bear no resemblance to the wonderful, jovial Irish son’s of bitches that settled in this country over the last couple of hundred years, I’m convinced he’d want to kick their arses, not mine.

PS: I want you to know that I was wrong about McSorley’s. My bad experiences there I believe was the result of one bad bartender who is no longer there. It’s a great bar with wonderful Guiness and very friendly bartenders. It gets a definite thumbs up.

jf