Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Summer

I was driving home tonight with the windows down, feeling the hot, humid Jersey summer wrap my truck in heaving sweat. Flogging Molly's Drunken Lullabies played softly on the radio, a good acoustic version that tapered and flowed with the road.

Shit like this, these old Irish songs, make you realize that no matter how fucked up things get, no matter how bad your life is, you still got it easy. So your girl doesn't love you like you thought, or your car got impounded, or you got locked up for some charge that will be gone in a year. It still doesn't compare to all of the things that those before us had to go through to survive. Your love may be lost, and she may never return. You may have fucked everything up over over the past five years, and wondered how you came to this point of being half drunk and lonely as shit at a compartively young age. You might wonder how you got to where you are, or how the next fifty years will play out, or wonder if you will even make it long enough to worry about such things.

But you listen to these old hymns, these songs that are so cheerful, so beautiful, even though the men who sang them had such horrific lives. How many of them watched their fathers get killed in battle, how many of them saw their mothers starve on gray streets, fading into an obscurity of the poor dead who owned nothing in life, and even less after. How many had harder lives than us....

We are amongst the fortunate. We have a good country, a good, stable base where we can move up in the social classes without paying for it in blood. Even the poorest have food and a couple TV's- rarely in history have the poor had both food and entertainment.

I don't forget this, though it may sometimes seem like I do.



And by the way, to that cunt that reviewed this site and said, "I expected it to be funny", GO FUCK YOURSELF. This didn't say, "Comedian's Ramblings: This is the story of a really fucking funny guy who you never heard of but will make you piss yourself laughing every time you come back to his awesome blog." No, bitch, it said I'm cynical and I drink too much. If you thought a barrel of laughs came with it, then who's the fucktard?

5 comments:

BH said...

It never takes looking very far to be reminded just how lucky we are. Thank you for the reminder.

Bea said...

I've read your blog for some time- I don't know, maybe a year or so, but I've never commented. I don't know why.

You're right about your "review"- critics are useless; though, the "disappointment" comes with fucking with people's expectations (or in this case, someone fucking with their own). You generally get one of two things- a pretty decent joke, or some self-righteous asshole bitching about whatever they thought they deserved.

I've been thinking somewhat along the same lines as your given subject matter- my father, his father, and so on. I'm not entirely sure if it makes me appreciate what I have/where I am any more; however, it definitely makes me reconsider my disposition.

Anyway, what I was really intending to say- for what it's worth, I don't read what you write because I agree with all of it, your views, thoughts, etc. and I'm not so much looking for the "funny" or to be entertained; rather, I think you're honest and unapologetic about it. That's what expression should be. It's a rarity, and tragically so, as there's something quite lovely about it.

Buzz said...

Atta Boy Irish

Irish said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Irish said...

I was drunk when I posted my reply, and it was too abrasive even for me.