All Write, Already!

I've always rebelled against the Wearin' O' The Green and the wretched excess that accompanies St. Patrick's Day, for a number of reasons:
1. I'm a quarter Irish, but I'm 100% Episcopalian. Good old C-of-E. Strains of Monty Python wave through my mind as I think of growing up at the local Cathedral. I wore Orange, of course, and got ridiculed by my classmates, who didn't understand.
2. Today is one of the holiest days on an Irish calendar. Today is meant to be spent in solemn contemplation, fasting and prayer. In Dublin today, everyone is at church, and most of the bars are closed until sundown. Tourists are, to be sure, very surprised and disapointed.
3. I may be a quarter Irish, but I also trace back to Pictish and Celtic roots. The "snakes" that our beloved St. Patty drove from Ireland, were, in fact, Celtic Druids and holy men, who were massacred by Patrick and his band of zealots. March 17th is the last day of their crusade, the day the high druid died, burned on a stake while being put to the question. We Christians sure were an awfully knid and considerate bunch, eh? Still are, if we use our American Christian President as an example of strong faith and moral turpitude...
4. I think the green dye they put in the Bud Light tastes really nasty, and it gives me the runs. Nothing like a case of the green squirts.
5. My skin looks strange when I wear green. I get all pale and pasty, like I'm undead or something. Great for movie-making, terrible for everything else. When I was a kid, my mom bought me a dark green suit. It cost nearly $50 -- in 1977 that was an awful lot of money -- and I wore it twice, because I just looked ghastly in it.