November 2009 - Irish American News

4 IRISH AMERICAN NEWS November 2009(ISSN #1085-4053) USPS #013454November 2009 Vol. XXxIII # 11PERIODICALFounderBob BurnsPublisherCliff CarlsonArt DirectorWalt KennedyEditorial AssistantsJoyce EdwardsAdvertising SalesElizabeth KellyShay ClarkePhotographerCathy CurryVideographerConor Clarke ProductionsWebisodesScott PowersColumns and ReviewsBooks - Frank WestTheatre - Sean CallanSenior Music Editorand Trad Music - Bill MargesonHealy Law - Martin HealyMick - Mike MorleyGaelic News - Pat HennessyA Word With Fr. Michael BolandIrish Musings - Fr. Michael LeonardHooliganism - Mike HoulihanIrish Diaspora - Charles BradyFor The Republic - Chris FogartyFrom the Motherland-Sean FarrellSwimming Upstream - Charles BradySharing A Pint - Scott PowersCareers - James Fitzgerald, CPARaised On Songs& Stories - Shay ClarkeReel Jiggy - Deirdre KozickiBoyle The Kettle - Tom BoyleHoroscopes - Theresa CastroIrish Rover - Jim McClurePiping it In - Jack BakerIrish IPod - Cate BakerCeltic Kitchen - Julianna LeberSpoirts - Mary Margaret O’LearySpecial ContributorsMolly HoranMaureen CallahanWeb Czar Walt Kennedy,assisted by Greg WahlIrish News, Inc. is publishedmonthly on the 1st of monthSubscriptionFirst class deliveryFastest:! Delivered in envelope1 year $ 35 2 year $ 65 3 year $ 90Regular delivery1 year $ 30 2 year $ 55 3 year $ 75Canada 1year $ 35 2 year $ 60International: 1 year $ 85(Periodicals Postage Paid atPalatine, IL.) Postmaster:Send address changes toIrish News, Inc.7115 W North Ave #327Oak Park, il 60302708-445-0700e-mail to:editor@irishamericannews.comPUBLISHERS STATEMENTThe opinions and statementsexpressed in this newspaper areentirely those of the authors, and donot reflect in any way the opinionsof Irish American News.Distribution25,013SwimmingUpstreamBy Charles BradyGoodbye John, Hello Dancing SunsAs you will, I hope, appreciateit‘s rather hard to write this columnwhile the tears are streaming downmy face.You see, John O’Donoghue, ourbeloved Ceann Comhairle, has justgiven his resignation speech live onIrish Television.Why he should have been permittedto resign, when in a sane countryhe would have just been given hismarching orders and a swift but heftykick in the ass to help him through thedoor (and don’t bang it on the wayout) is anybody’s guess.But we don’t do things like that inthis country. In Ireland what we do isgive corrupt bankers a very handsomegolden handshake, a free car and acard that says: “come back and seeus when the morons have forgottenthe small details.”I have to admit that his speechstarted out well. He had no dignityof course, and nor would I expect thatfrom him, but he was bitter, a goodhater, and obviously had the knivesout for those that he perceived asbringing him down.As a man who holds grudges for alifetime, I can admire that.What I didn’t admire was whenhis considerable jowls, fed by yearsof free junket meals that were servedto Freeload Kate Ann and himselfin five star hotels, started shaking inrighteous indignation at how he hadbeen betrayed. His lip quivered, as ifhe had spent too many years studyingthe “hard-done-by” tapes of the fraudBertie Ahern.What I equally didn’t admire washis wife Kate Ann Freeload in the bestposition of the Visitor’s Gallery of theDail Chambers, giving daggers to anyjournalist who had said a bad wordabout the expenses and privilegedlifestyle that these two hypocrites hadled at the very bloody hard-pressedtaxpayer’s expense.Talk about cherry-picking? Hepulled out a couple of beauties toexplain that he was above checkingwho was paying for what; he alsoclaims that he had no clue as to wherehe was being booked into and at whatexpense.“I will accept the verdict of informedjudgement, but not the verdictof the disingenuous. [This comingfrom him!] I will accept the judgementof my peers after their carefulreflection on all the facts and fairprocedures. I will not allow my life inpublic service to be sustained by thetriumph of the half-truth.”Oh, how noble, your lord, sittingup there on that seat in your wonderfulrobes, as if you had just steppedoff the set of a remake of “Cromwell.”Tell we peasants, your eminence, whathalf of “half truth” are you hiding?As for the Dail Chambers? Well,I can’t remember the last time thatI saw the joint so packed out—andyou can bet your life that our bunchavailed of every expense going, andeven some that they had to inventthemselves.There they were sitting, as thisastonishing speech that could beboiled down to five words—“I’vebeen hard done by”—ended, andthen the little paws began to clap. Isensed a palpable sense of relief fromthe gougers that he hadn’t decided toname names.For that was one thing that I agreedwith him about. It was unspoken, buthe definitely felt that he was beingmade a scapegoat. You know what?He was. Because there were a hell ofa lot more than him with their snoutsin the trough.Hence the relief: he didn’t namenames. Shame, that.Of course, there’s always one thathas to over-egg the bloody pudding,and what a non-surprise that it wasthe ghastly Beverly Cooper Flynnof Mayo who jumped to her feet in aforlorn but hilarious attempt to givethe chancer a standing ovation.She looked around at the stonyfaces that were inwardly saying, “ForGod’s sake, we’re being watched onTV,” and then sat down again.In the end nothing was explained.There was just the petulant rantingof a spoilt man throwing his rattlesout of the pram because he had beencaught out.But to you idiots who did the clapping?You were the ones that wantedhim gone. Maybe a bit quieter thanit turned out to be, but none the lessbooted out. And then you applaud.You’re some bunch, all right; andso are we. After all, we voted you in.In other happy news, now that theIrish have sold their souls to Europeand can look forward to being toldwhat to do by Brussels forever more,I was taken by the look of upset on theface of the man who may be in chargeof us very shortly, if as expected, hebecomes President of Europe.I am, of course, talking about thatfine upstanding Christian Tony Blair.He showed up unwanted last week(mid-October as I write) at a receptionfollowing a service for the dead of thewar in Iraq.He held his hand out to be ceremoniouslyshaken by the wrong guy,that’s for sure.Peter Brierley shouted at him:“Don’t you dare! You have my son’sblood on your hands.”Since this is the democratic partof the world, three of Blair’s goonswere instantly on top of the father ofa dead war hero, while removing goodChristian Blair from the room, lest hecome to harm at the hands of an upsetand grieving 59-year-old.Mr. Brierley, who was understandablyupset that his son Shaun shoulddie for nothing, later said: “That manis a war criminal. I can’t take being inthe same room as him. I can’t believethat he has been allowed to come tothis reception”.“I sat through that service listeningto people preaching to me about tolerance,but I don’t think that anyoneshould be forced to tolerate being inthe same room as him. I believe thathe has got the blood of my son—andall the other men and women whodied in that war—on his hands.”Of course, over here we are seeingan epiphany of sorts. As alwayshappens in times of recession, theIrish see moving statues all over theplace.In the last weeks there have beensightings of a religious nature up anddown the country. Here we go again.In particular, there have beenthousands turning up at Knock Shrinewhere it’s been reported that Bono hasappeared [behave—editor]. Sorry, itwas Tony Blair [I’m warning you!].OK, it is apparently the Virgin Mary.There have been sightings of thesun dancing and changing colour inthe sky, and feelings of happinesspermeating entire groups of people.I’m not normally interested inthe hallucinations of the mad, butwho the heck am I to judge? I guessit’s whatever rocks your boat; andsince they don’t seem to be botheringanyone, and since there are morepeople turning out than will probablyturn out to vote the next time we areordered to get our story straight forEurope, then what can you say but“live long and prosper!”After all, I had a pleasant hallucinationyesterday where I sawJohn O’Donoghue resign and JessicaLange knock on my door wearingnothing but a beguiling smile.Hold on a minute… the first partof that was actually true.May your God go with you.