Ireland and alcohol are my heritage

Even though some people might view it as politically incorrect to make jokes about the Irish and drinking, I have some biological rights to break the rules.

You see, there are many secrets that can be found in my family tree like, say, a great-great-grandfather who was allegedly an Irish Protestant-turned-Catholic. Its no secret, though, that I have Irish blood in me. Ive waved that banner proudly for years. The secret Im referring to is a bit of family history that I havent boasted about too much in this space.

There are Irish bar owners in my family tree. Thats right. I said owners with an s at the end.

My great-grandfather, Simon, and his twin brother, Peter, were Irish immigrants who ran a saloon in New York City right before Prohibition. Im not making this up. We have U.S. and New York Census records which back this up.

I also have cousins who have run a bar in the Irish village of Tulla for decades. I stopped in for a visit nearly five years ago. They said they dont serve food. They only serve alcohol. Guinness is the main option, of course.

Therefore, with that kind of a heritage, I have a blood-right to make jokes about the Irish and drinking.

Why should I shy away from it when my kinsmen openly embrace it?

I will point out, however, that there is a comical Irish drinking song, called Galway Bay, about a rowdy wife who likes to drink 16 points of Pabst Blue Ribbon at Pat Joe Murphys.

The song goes, If the sea was beer instead of salty water, she would live and die in Galway Bay.

As St. Patricks Day approaches, one thing is certain: Everybody is going to get drunk. Well, everyone except the teetotalers because they never get drunk.

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Ireland and alcohol are my heritage