To Hell With the Irish

    Despite the title (which I designed in hopes of securing hits on Google) I have nothing in particular against those of current or ancestral Irish descent, at least nothing more than I have against any other race, religion, nationality, or ethnic group.
    As proof of my affection for the bog-jumping set, I can truthfully assert that none of my best friends (except my wife) have been genetically connected to the Emerald Isle — although there was a skinny Irish chick at the Reader’s Digest that I lusted after during a protracted interregnum in my marriage.
    So — Intro and Disclaimers complete — on to the gripes.
    To start with: Why do so many fictional TV and motion picture cops, FBI agents, and Army, Navy, and Marine heroes have Irish surnames? I mean, okay, John Wayne (Shannon, Donovan, Brannigan, McLintock, McCord) was himself at least part Irish. But how does that explain Bruce Willis (McLane, Hartigan, McNamara), Rock Hudson (McMillan), Peter Weller (Murphy), Linda Hamilton (Connor), and Clint Eastwood (Dirty Harry Callahan)?
    Now I’m a reasonable man (just kidding). I accept that monikers like Adams and Peterson and Williams and Hutchinson are verboten since every whore in the entertainment industry as well as every right-thinking, guilt-ridden, pussy-whipped, PC wimp knows that all evil-doers are duplicitous, cowardly, manipulative, overbearing, capitalist WASP swine whose chief recreation is attempting to destroy valiant liberals like Julia Roberts, Tim Robbins, Robert Redford, Matt Damon, Mel Gibson, and Danny Glover. But for Crissake, can’t the united creative forces of Hollywood, Broadway, and the classier sections of Connecticut come up with a hero or two with a last name like Ginzburg or Ippolito or Jaruzelski or Bjorkstrom? Like, y’know, the most famous non-Irish hero cop that comes to mind is Inspector Clouseau of Pink Panther fame...and he bit the dust along with his Jewish avatar Peter Sellers back in 1980.
    So I repeat, why are the Irish so fucking popular with the scribbling class?
    Without wasting my valueless time on such foolishness as scholarly research or interviews with experts, I have nevertheless determined the root cause of Irish popularity among script writers, marketing gurus, and kindred intellectual prostitutes. It is simply that the Irish are self-promoters par excellence, their bards and songsmiths never failing to extol the bravery and manliness of the sons of Erin who so courageously sacrifice their lives in the eternal war against the evil English.
    I like Irish music. I listen to Celtic Sojourn each Saturday on PBS. My wife and I occasionally attend Irish music festivals in Boston. Moreover, unlike any Irishman I’ve personally come across, I know the words to the great Irish fighting song, "The Rising of the Moon."
    But songs of blood and bravery, of desperate battles and youth cut short and noble hatreds, do not reflect the reality of the human soul nor the human condition. They may be stirring for an Irishman when he is embedded in the dreamworlds of booze and bars and buddies and the thrill and power of the marching mob, but once he is alone and sober in the cold air of a winter night, the martial tunes and warlike words crumble into a soup of mawkish gush.
    Which brings us to World War II.
    In 1940, after the Wehrmacht overran most of Europe, England stood alone against the against the might of the Axis powers. The Irish Republic, confronted with what seemed to be the inevitable invasion and subjugation of their sister nation by the most vile and most murderous tyranny in history led by a veritable Satan in human form, responded by maintaining the strictest possible neutrality between the warring parties.
    Was it simply hatred of the English that motivated this policy? Was it sympathy with the Nazis given Ireland’s well-known strain of anti-Semitism?
    The IRA, for example (not an inconsiderable force in Ireland at the time), busied itself during the war supplying German U-boats, sheltering German spies, and generally cozying up to Joseph Goebbels and the rest of the Nazi criminals in hopes of cleansing Ireland of the remaining English presence.
    But the IRA was small potatoes, and I don’t believe for a second that Ireland stayed out of the war because of its ancient blood feud with England. After all, the U.S. and Britain partnered with the Soviet Union and mass-murderer Joseph Stalin against the manifestly greater evil of Hitler and the Nazis.
    No. I believe Irish neutrality can be summed up in a single word.
    And that word is Cowardice.
    In 1941, Joe Walshe, Ireland’s Secretary of the Department of External Affairs (equivalent to our Secretary of State) tried to explain away the patent immorality of his country’s stance:

"...small nations like Ireland do not and cannot assume a role as defenders of just causes except [their] own...Existence of our own people comes before all other considerations...no government has the right to court certain destruction for its people; they have to take the only chance of survival and stay out."

    Perhaps an Irishman, especially if he’s surrounded by a dozen or two of his compatriots, would find these words to be the quintessence of enlightened manhood.
    I find them disgusting.

Norm Mack, Peterborough, dog@myfairpoint.net

 

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  • 5/7/2010 6:28 PM me wrote:
    you rule Pop
    Reply to this
  • 5/7/2010 6:42 PM jr wrote:
    Before you tear into the Irish (terrorists) It would seem, given your grandson's red hair, the Irish gene is quite dominant. He is part Filipino, Chinese, Spanish, Irish, German, Italian, Russian, and English. And the little guy has red hair! Sure to love Guinness too.
    Reply to this
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