Seeing as St. Patrick’s Day is almost upon us, and it’s the one day out of the year when you can actually celebrate a “religious holiday” without fear of being persecuted for your sudsy beliefs in a greater power (beer), I thought it might be a damn good time to talk about the social aspects of the drinking process.
I have a dream.

First of all, let it be known that I do not endorse or advocate the act of drunk driving, semi-rude behavior, or other such nonsense. I save that kind of foolishness for my writing and other assorted chicken-scratches in the safety of my own Fortress of Solitude. As far as the art of St. Paddy’s Day goes, though, I think you can divide it up (more or less) into three acts - the only resemblance to Shakespeare being tragedy.

ACT I: Where Art Thou, My Liquid Crutch?

Sure, going to any social function is stressful enough: Meeting new people, trying to fit in, and attempting to eavesdrop on conversations about your stunning hair. It’s all such nasty business!

That’s why it’s nice, in the end, to depend on beer (for, um, at least one day out of the year) to enhance your shaky social skills. Hey, forget about relying on your own defective personality: That will never work! Instead, like Oprah defending her out-of-this-world book club, tap into liquid courage in a can on St. Paddy’s Day. Believe me, you and I are only deluding ourselves by believing we are interesting under normal circumstances.

Once you have accepted this inevitable fact, it’s time to mosey on up to the bar and order a round of the devil’s urine: Beer, beer, beer! Note to all eligible establishments, hooch houses, and shady speakeasies out there: Don’t make the same fatal mistake that some bars make of not having a hearty supply of Blue Moon Belgian Ale on hand. It’s a crowd favorite. All right, all right, I confess! It’s my personal favorite, but hey, I figure if I like it, then the world likes it (that’s not too self-absorbed, is it?).

Speaking of self-absorbed: After explaining this little Zen philosophy of mine to the alleged bartender, he or she will usually inform me that all they have available is Pabst Blue Ribbon drenched in Soylent Green food coloring (but it’s on draft!). What, no beer-soaked urinal cakes to suck on behind the bar? I’m telling you people, it’s a beer bottle conspiracy out there, so drink heavily to squelch any and all inner demons on St. Patrick’s Day! It is, like Master Yoda so fittingly proclaimed, your destiny. “Soylent Green is people! Soylent Green is people!”