Next week, we'll be celebrating St. Patty's Day.
It's a holiday I have always indulged in, particularly as a youth growing up with friends named Gallagher and Dawson. Though as a half Scot, half Jew I never felt very connected to the green isle or its inhabitant's yearly drunkfest.
Enter 23andme.
An exhaustive analysis of my DNA has revealed some very interesting new information. Apparently, and this is a new term I learned from the very charming Brian Cox who appeared on Bill Maher last week, many Scottish people are also Irish people.
In fact there's a term for people like Brian, and now people like me, Mick/Macks.
According to the chart, it's a group to which I now I have proud membership:
Who knew?
You'd think this would be something my mother would have shared with me as I generously shared all my Heineken beer with her when she came to visit. But barely a word.
In any case, it merits a deep dive.
Into Irish literature. I'm sure my personal librarian, George Tannenbaum, can point me in the direction of some fine Irish authors, particularly those who wield wit as prodigiously as Kim Jong Un wields mobile launched missiles.
Into Irish spirits. It may be time to reintroduce myself to the dark side of beer and sample the freshly drawn Guinness at the newly opened Auld fella pub which is in stumbling distance of my house.
And next time I'm in a restaurant I might have to pinch my nose and fight through the stewed cabbage and sample the corned beef. Though to be honest, if I'm in a place that serves corned beef and other cured meats, I'm probably gonna take a pass and opt for the pastrami.
I'm sorry my Irish brethren, but when it comes to good deli sandwichs, you got nothing on the Jews.
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