Patriot Realm

Over the last few weeks I have noticed that people are losing their sense of humor. So I decided to write something to remind people that if you can't laugh, you may as well fook off and be done with it. 

That is the problem with muslims. They never developed a sense of humor. Like the priests of the old Catholic church who were so full of hell and damnation that they forgot to look at the glory of the good and the positive things in life.

I mean, how could I ever post the joke about the two muslim mothers looking down at their kids and lamenting " Kids! They blow up so fast these days. "

It's like my old Gran used to say, if all you've got is lemons, eat the fookin things because they could be all you get today.

Lemonade? Hah! We would dream of lemonade only we were too weak to squeeze the juice and Father McGee would have whipped us stupid for daring to say such filthy things as " squeezing the juice. "

He was like that.

That's what we Irish call funny. Maybe it's because we grew up in times when we would've rather enjoyed a spud ( potato for you heathens out there ) and made light of things like hunger, war, slavery, eviction, homelessness and being shot at. It's an Irish thing.

Australians have a history of descending from convicts and free settlers seeking a better life. They came to a country full of man eating spiders, ship eating sharks and snakes that would make Adam and Eve wonder why God only left them an apple and a couple of fig leaves to defend themselves with. Australians make light of drought, floods, bushfires and distances traveled. A  quick drive down to the shops can take 6 hours or more. It's an Aussie thing. 

We laugh at things that are not funny. We have centuries of experience. Again, as my Gran said, " make light of the heavy and the load will not break your back. "

You either get it or you don't. If you don't - then fook off - it's not my problem.

It's your problem.

For myself, I blame the Blarney Stone.

Blarney humor, as the name suggests, is a style of humor associated with the Irish, and more specifically, with the famous "Blarney Stone" and the gift of the gab it's said to bestow upon those who kiss it. ( The Blarney Stone is a block of limestone built into the battlements of Blarney Castle in County Cork, Ireland. Kissing the stone is thought to give a person the "gift of gab," or the ability to speak persuasively and with great wit.)

For now, picture a cozy pub, a pint of Guinness in hand, surrounded by convivial souls who spin tales of mischief, mayhem, and mirth.

Now, put it in Australia. We share a sense of humor mates.

Former PM Bob Hawke shares a joke with 1983 America's Cup winning skipper John Bertrand and syndicate owner Alan Bond on the 30th anniversary of Australia II's historic victory.

Picture a pub full of boozey Aussies or a backyard BBQ , eskies full of beer and a bunch of happy blokes spinning tales of bullshit, bad taste and slapping each other on the shoulder and saying " That was a cracker mate! " 

Laughter is the best medicine.

We Irish have a remarkable knack for finding humor in our own flaws and the absurdities of life. And we have seen enough of life to know it is sink or swim when the chips are down.

What a shame our politicians, muslims, lefties and self appointed guardians of misinformation can't find it in their hearts to dig deep and find that lost thing called a fookin laugh.

Father Ted ( one of my favorite TV shows ) was great at taking the mickey.

But there's more to the success of the Irish joke than meets the eye. 

It's rooted in the deep-seated spirit of (what is known down here as mateship ) friendship and the shared experience of a nation that has weathered its fair share of storms.  

We Irish have mastered the art of using humor as a coping mechanism, a way to find light in the darkest of times. Through centuries of hardship, we have honed our ability to find joy amidst adversity, to turn a somber moment into a playful anecdote, and to use laughter as a salve for the soul.

I can't believe I just wrote that, it might be the whiskey speaking.

 But as Mrs Paddy says, there's something about the accent. I sometimes think that I could speak complete rubbish and some leftie girlie would say " I just love your Irish accent! "

So maybe next time there is a referendum or an election, you should just wheel Paddy out and get me to say, in a lilted voice with a silver thread

" Just vote for whoever Paddy says to vote for. "

You never know, we might just win something because, after this Voice fiasco, I don't think anyone listened to the words.

I think they just listened to the voice.