American In Ireland Comedy Set

Bits on bars, Ireland vs US, Guinness, man-woman relationships, man-member relationships, soul music

Yeah I’ve been here about a year now. And I’ve been having trouble with something, maybe you guys can help me…do you know where I can find a bar anywhere around here? Jesus Christ…no limit to the square feet appropriated for the annoyingly high-priced, time-regulated public consumption of alcohol in beautiful Ireland. But they’re all closed when you want it, and open when you don’t, amiright? It’s enough to make you wanna drink. Cause they’re everywhere. 

 

I can just picture someone walking into city council one day: ‘Yes, um hello board members. Good to see you today. Thank you for hearing my proposal. I was born and raised here. I know what this country is. What it represents. I know its majesty, its magic…its rich tradition of expression, its solidarity in the face of oppression. When we’re told what to do, we go against the grain. Now there are currently over 8000 pubs here. So here’s my proposal (unveils sketch of a pub). *board members look at each other* ‘Is…it a pub?’ The guy stands proud, *wispy, chivalrous*. ‘We like it! Congratulations, my good man. Brilliant. Brilliant!’

 

So everyone enjoying the Guinness here? Tastes WAY different than anywhere else right…ehhhh…right. I feel I'm qualified to speak on this because I led somewhat of an unpaid personal crusade for the stuff in the states. I have persuaded more than one bar owner to get it on tap…fueled by a deeply spiritual quest…yes in the states that’s what’s called a cultural revolutionary. Or maybe a civic urinary, I’m not sure. I have personally cascaded enough wee-wee from Guinness onto the streets of California and Vegas to turn them all into one flowing grid of ammonia. Now some might call that putrid. Locals here might call it…the Liffey. 

 

I do enjoy the Guinness though…it’s very soothing, almost genetically comforting, to see all the signs, the semi-trucks filled with the stuff…those ‘quality control’ guys in the black minivans…have you seen these guys rolling around? They’re everywhere. I saw one guy…with his aviator glasses…in a city with no sun…he was just a perfect portrait of job security. Like a comfortable mid-level crime boss or something...one who has no trouble operating in broad daylight. I just imagine what his job’s like. He slowly pulls up outside a bar…illegally parked…doesn’t care…hazard lights…doesn’t care…he grabs his cane made of onyx…it’s got a gold harp for a handle…he looks around…at nothing in particular…glosses the handle with a kerchief…y'know no regard for pedestrians…doesn’t even acknowledge their existence… The bartender inside catches a flash of him through the window and he shudders… The rep makes his way up to the door, inserts his universal key…keeps looking around at nothing but still makes a straight line to the bartender…’So…you’ve only sold a thousand kegs this week. Last week was 1100. You care to explain?’ ‘Well, Sir, Representative, sir, we’re serving as fast as we can, y’know two bartenders were just hospitalized for exhaustion, the floors are covered in piss, and you make us take five minutes for each bloody pour…and y’know sometimes people just want a damn shot!’ The rep smashes a liquor shelf with his cane, a piece of glass cuts the bartender...the rep points to the guy’s arm and says, ‘What is that?!’ ‘It’s blood…’ ‘It’s RED!! YOU MUST BLEED BLACK!! AND WHERE’S THE HALF-INCH HEAD!!’ Bartender slowly drops to his knees…

 

So anyone here not from the European Union? Do you feel like you could stay forever? It’s tough for us. From the research I’ve done, the people I’ve talked to…it makes me think of what God, or the Source, or whatever you wanna call it...must sound like in the afterlife. I picture him as Irish so I think the exchange would go something like…’So…were you able to scale the rain-slicked walls of Ballyblarneylackentarf Castle with your bare hands? Were you able to chip away at the holy gurney granite, and extract the four glimmering dustulatures for the betterment of the universe?’ ‘huh? Wait, is ballyblackensnarf even a castle…and gurney…dustawhat?’ ‘Ok well just pick up that rock and throw it through this window.’ ‘But there’s no rock…or window…’ ‘Ooooooh sorry…if you can’t see the rock that means you’re a cockroach and have to go back to your eroding hole.’ 

That's what everyone Irish person sounds like to me when I tell them I want to stay. It’s tough being American here; people’s eyes just glass over and they all go into that wary, 'you’re an idiot but could still kill me' mode.

 

Yeah so some of you may be able to tell from my accent that I come from a land called…1972. I had to leave my home because over the years the priorities in my country have scorched my back like napalm bombs used to in Vietnam. Yeah, I remember growing up, the social effects of Vietnam War kind of shaped my attitudes, even though I was pretty removed from it. I remember when I was nine I saw the picture of that poor Vietnamese girl running for her life from a napalm bomb…and it just made me start to question the entire universe. And for some reason, as a young, impressionable kid I kind of felt a strange kinship with young Vietnamese women. Some might say that that was just a way of giving up, kind of victimizing myself before anyone else could…that I was actually a pinko-commie-sympathizer but I think it was just because we both just had such timelessly elegant, delicate features. At least that’s what mommy used to tell me. But don't take her word for it. I’m not actually a young Vietnamese woman. But like some of my fascist friends, I do enjoy running naked in the streets for no reason though. Ooh, what a burn. That’s what she said. And what all the other participants in my sexual experiences have said. I’m sorry, that’s a little callous. That’s also what they’ve said. No that’s what I said. I mean I’m a little phallus, I mean, I'm a little callous, from growing up in the states. 

 

But besides seeing that picture of that girl when I was 9  I had a pretty good life growing up in the states in the 80s…I did watch a ton of tv though. I was a big fan of that show Mash that was so popular…anyone catch that…the really contentious, swirling romance between the sassy, indignant Margaret ‘Hot Lips’ Houlihan and the manic, cowardly Major Frank Burns…I remember reading an article in a gossip mag at the time and it had the heading, ‘Hot Lips Leaves Frank Burns’…yeah it was a poignant, but devastating moment for me...cause somehow in the back of my mind I just knew that at the end of all my relationships was going to be that exactsame headline.

 

Yeah my dating experiences don’t go that well. I don’t know why. Like one time I invited this girl over for dinner…y’know I made a nice dish with prosciutto, caramelized vegetables, a sweet, velvety white wine cream sauce, angel hair…not the pasta, the actual hair of an angel…well, it was actually a handful of hair that I kept from my dead grandmother…what…my date was goth, I thought she’d like it. She didn’t. She immediately cacked it back up in horror…it was kinda sweet though…the cats were asleep on the couch, and they immediately perked up and then gave me a warm, loving gaze…so that was special.

 

Yeah so I went to cooking school…$40,000 down the drain in my case. But there is an upside…I can cut a cross-section of tree bark into a hundred miniature, delicious-looking incarnations…so if any of you want to pull a prank on some chipmunks in the near future let me know.

 

Yeah things don’t usually last that long with women *look down*. No offense, man! He’s very touchy. No seriously, he's pretty fed up with me at this point. Yeah, on my last date, after 30 seconds of conversation...the girl shot me the look, some of you guys, or, maybe...none...of you guys know...the Look...just take my word for it, there's a Look…that says you don’t measure up to ANY of her requirements for a guy…anyway after that hit I just looked down at him…knowing I disappointed him once again…and that he probably doesn’t want to be with me either…and I could’ve swore at that moment I heard him break into that old James Ingram song…’Just once…can we figure out what we keep doin wrong…why the magic never lasts too long……Why 
Can't we get ourselves in hand
And admit to one another
We're no good without each other
Take the best and make it better
Find a way to stay together