St.Patrick's Day is a Sham...rock...

So apparently this Patrick fella isn't who I thought he was. My world is crushed after reading this wikipedia about the day. So this a-hole wasn't even born in Ireland. Ole Pat was born in Roman Britain then kidnapped and brought to Ireland to be a slave. And like a true sell out he fled back home to become a priest. I’ve also discovered that the day’s original colors were blue wtf? This day is full of malarkey. I'm so disappointed here. I'm writing my own story about how St. Patrick's Day came into existence.

Ireland's pubs were in peril. The potato harvest has skipped town for the last 100 years and once upon patrons can no longer afford to frequent their local pubs. All the four leaf clovers were weeded out by leprechauns and hoarded in their rainbow caves and used to spin into gold schillings because they are magical and that's how they roll. All the Irish gingers looked at each other up in arms over their current predicament. Taverns were closing across the land. Pubs slammed their 3,000 lb Oak doors with gargoyle door knockers. The pubs were the pride of Ireland and this tragedy was sweeping the ginger laden land. Along came a man. A man named Patrick. Patrick had a vision of Ireland that he could not stand to see dissipate. Images of drunken pasty farmers, merchants and serfs coming together over a frosty mug and shattering the glass across each other’s mugs in all merriness. Patrons would spill into the cobblestone streets arms linked singing folk songs about William Wallace. This dream was fading rapidly and Patrick was not about to let it happen on his watch. Ole Pat was well to do as his family had invested early in the pitch fork industry which was ever so lucrative in Ireland. They were also living the dream on Bailey's Irish creame funds. Money was no object for Patrick. In his best effort to save the pubs he made it his duty to frequent every last one of Ireland’s taverns and Pubs on a daily basis dishing out frosty mugs and good cheer on his dime. The communities grew fond of Ole Patrick as he was called. He never let a beer go unfinished and always made sure everyone at the bar had a full stein of their lager of choice. He became known to the town folk as a Saint, hence the name St. Patrick. Yep that's what happened.
How bout a pint of the black stuff govna!