MMR: Wear Green, Drink Beer, and Celebrate Me!

As you could tell by the title of this Rant (which, wow, is the first ever Monday Morning Rant to actually be written in the morning!), this post will be about one of the greatest, and most overlooked holidays of the year: St. Patrick's Day.

Now, St. Me Day is widely known as a holiday used by college students and 20-somethings to get ridiculously drunk, which is cool. But there is a brilliant history behind St. Me Day that you should know about. I am going to use this space to share some knowledge that you may not be aware of.

Way back in ancient times (1983), it was written that a great man would be born to some awesome parents in the small town of San Jose. This boy would be born in the Fall, and he would be named Patrick, after some dude who scared snakes out of Ireland, or something like that. As it was written, the immaculate Mrs. BQ produced said son on the first Monday in October, and the Glorious One BQ named him Patrick; once again, after some dude who liked to play with shamrocks, I believe.

Unfortunately, these were tumultuous times in the small city of San Jose; and the powers that be did not like the idea of such a great child being born to such great and noble parents. Thus, Patrick's birth was kept a secret for nearly 6 months. Finally, a revolution occurred, and the corrupt government that was holding the people down were scurried out of town. On March 17, 1984, a great day in the history of the world, Patrick's existance was revealed to his people, and they drank beer to celebrate!

As Patrick grew up, the wise BQ decided that a growing city like San Jose was no place to raise a great child, so he moved his family to a nearby suburb. Patrick grew up never truely realizing his full potential, as he was sheltered from the media coverage that would have been sure to hound him otherwise. The public wanted to know more about this child who's birth had been foretold in some writings somewhere, and who, by superior parentage, was bound to be a spectacular human being and leader. But BQ and Mrs. BQ wanted Patrick to enjoy a normal childhood, and the media was kept away (except for one incident in a mall where Patrick made it onto the news for a few seconds. The public response was so great that the news station had to open up an entire phone bank to field calls and answer questions from fans).

Not much is known of Patrick's life between when his family moved to the suburbs and when he left for college. People would still get together and drink beer every March 17th, in honor of his unveiling, but as the years passed, the reason behind the holiday was lost, and people just wanted an excuse to get drunk during the work week. Patrick was being forgotten.

But, one day, Patrick was back in the spotlight. Knowing his greatness, Patrick was offered scholarships, and even teaching jobs, at some of the greatest and most respected colleges around the world. However, Patrick had a vision one night in his sleep. A leprechaun came to Patrick in his dreams and told him:

Patrick, you are a great man, and the world will need you very soon. Go to
the college found in Davis, CA and wait. When the time comes, you will
know it, and you will know what to do.

The message startled Patrick. How could he be great? He was just a normal kid making extraordinary college choices, he presumed, because of his superior intellect, biting wit, and incredible ability to make friends with anyone he met. So, he told his parents about what the leprechaun had told him, and they revealed the truth. They told him how his birth was written by some dude, and he was born just as the writings foretold. His birth gave everyone great joy, as he was a badass with brilliant genes, and would one day be needed to save the world.

Patrick was shocked, but only mildly. He had always felt he was greater than he was given credit for. He had always believed he was destined to do something spectacular. And boy, was he right. The course of events that occurred in Davis would change the course of history forever.

One night during his sophomore year in college, Patrick was awaken by a loud BANG outside of his apartment. Grogilly, he arose and staggered out to the parking lot. What he found there was astonishing! There was a giant crater where his BMW Z3 Roadster used to be (it was a beautiful car, and the chicks loved it...he had to go find a used red Ford pickup truck after this...but that's another adventure entirely). Inside the crater, along with the shrapnel of his formerly amazing ride, was a small pebble. Very small.

Patrick hopped down into the crater and picked up the pebble. Contrary to what common sense told him, the pebble was ice cold to the touch. As soon as he touched it, the pebble latched on to his hand and dug what felt like teeth into the skin. Patrick grimaced, and although the pain was immense, never made a sound. The pebble turned into a head with teeth biting down on his now bleeding hand. Out of the head grew a large body, 6 legs, 4 arms, and one other appendage that Patrick could not see. Once finished, the pebble had turned into a 6-foot monster.

The monster stopped biting his hand, looked Patrick in the eye, and spoke thus: "Grobble gook snarf zong zmog rofl bork bork bork." Shockingly, Patrick could understand him! He shouted back, "NO! This is a college town! And in college towns, kids like to drink beer! I will not let you evaporate all our beer away!" By this time, the entire apartment complex was watching the confrontation in awe. The monster looked around, surveyed the landscape, and then replied to Patrick, "Grimble fork rinkledy zomg rasta tankotron goo bu-kaaaaaaak." Then there was a green flash of light, and everyone watching was all of a sudden at a local bar. In the middle of the room was a table with two pitchers of Guinness and two chairs. A grandstand had been set up around the table, and all the observers had filled their seats.

Patrick took his seat on one side of the table, and the monster took his seat and ate it, and then jsut stood on the other side of the table. The monster then spoke, in perfect english, "I will face Patrick in a beer drinking contest. If Patrick wins, I will leave this planet for good. However, if I win, all of your beer will be instantly evaporated, and you will never taste the delicious drink on your lips again. Let the competition begin!"

And they drank. Patrick vs. the monster. And they drank some more. And they drank. And they drank. And they drank. And they drank. And they drank. After about 15 pitchers of Guinness, Patrick realized that he wasn't that drunk, and, even more shockingly, he wasn't that full either (which is amazing since Guinness is like drinking a sandwich). After the 25th pitcher, the monster started to wobble. After the 30th pitcher, Patrick stood up and walked in a straight line right at the monster. "Hey, you feelin ok there buddy?" Patrick asked. "You are looking a little GREEN! As you can see, I can keep going all day long baby. So you might want to ask yourself if this is really a good idea." The monster bellowed, "GAGGLEFOOK!" and pounded another pitcher. This pitcher was it, though, as his eyes closed and he face planted through the table. As soon as he hit the ground, there was another green flash, and everyone was back at the apartment complex, and the monster was gone. The world's beer was safe.

After this, Patrick tried to stay out of the limelight as much as possible. He knew he was great, he didn't need the world to keep telling him. But his day of rememberance, March 17th, continued. Due to the green flashes of light the monster produced, the wearing of the color green was added to the yearly beer drinking festivities, as a reminder of what we had to go through to be able to continue drinking beer. And what became of Patrick? Well, not much is known, and those who are closest to him keep their mouths shut, but we like to assume that he spends every March 17th the same way we all do, tipping back a drink and spending it with friends.