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| The Worst Irishman of All Time |
| Frosted Lucky Charms, They're Magically Oppressive! |
That’s right, Lucky the Leprechaun, corporate shill and race traitor. This sugary cereal mascot
is the Irish Stepin Fetchit, nothing more than an offensive caricature. He embodies all the
worst Irish stereotypes: rainbows, pots of gold, and queer-looking hats. Lucky even
encourages the Irish to allow themselves to be kicked around like small, yippy dogs: kids are
always chasing Lucky, trying to score some of those sweet, sweet Lucky Charms. He keeps
running away like a complete pansy, instead of acting like a real Irishman and cracking a
whisky bottle over their prepubescent heads and pissing on their graves.
I say it’s high time we end unrealistic portrayals of Irish Americans on television. General Mills’
days of cashing in on the Emerald Isle are numbered. It’s time for them to pay the piper. I am
hereby starting a boycott of General Mills. Click on the link below to sign my online petition. A
pink star or purple heart will not cross my lips until they put Lucky out to pasture and replace
him with a more authentic symbol of Ireland: the badass Leprechaun from the Warwick Davis
(what up, Willow! Holla!) movie “Leprechaun.” If anyone tries to take his Lucky Charms, they’
ll pull back a nub.
I’m serious, no more of this weak sister bullshit. The new Lucky Charms will be the kind of
breakfast cereal that will rip your mouth open and march itself right down your throat. The Irish
have sat idly by and permitted this bastardization of our culture for far too long. First we let the
Italians muscle us out of the organized crime biz, and now we’re letting some cereal company
tell us who the hell we are. Well, I’ve drawn a line in the sand, and no corporate high tide is
going to wash it out to sea. In fact, I’m not just going to draw a line in the sand, I’m going to
build a sand castle. It’ll be my secret headquarters. Drop by anytime. But before you do, sign
the petition! Together, we can restore the dignity of Irish people worldwide! Here’s the link:
www.PetitionOnline.com/lucky111/petition.html.
is the Irish Stepin Fetchit, nothing more than an offensive caricature. He embodies all the
worst Irish stereotypes: rainbows, pots of gold, and queer-looking hats. Lucky even
encourages the Irish to allow themselves to be kicked around like small, yippy dogs: kids are
always chasing Lucky, trying to score some of those sweet, sweet Lucky Charms. He keeps
running away like a complete pansy, instead of acting like a real Irishman and cracking a
whisky bottle over their prepubescent heads and pissing on their graves.
I say it’s high time we end unrealistic portrayals of Irish Americans on television. General Mills’
days of cashing in on the Emerald Isle are numbered. It’s time for them to pay the piper. I am
hereby starting a boycott of General Mills. Click on the link below to sign my online petition. A
pink star or purple heart will not cross my lips until they put Lucky out to pasture and replace
him with a more authentic symbol of Ireland: the badass Leprechaun from the Warwick Davis
(what up, Willow! Holla!) movie “Leprechaun.” If anyone tries to take his Lucky Charms, they’
ll pull back a nub.
I’m serious, no more of this weak sister bullshit. The new Lucky Charms will be the kind of
breakfast cereal that will rip your mouth open and march itself right down your throat. The Irish
have sat idly by and permitted this bastardization of our culture for far too long. First we let the
Italians muscle us out of the organized crime biz, and now we’re letting some cereal company
tell us who the hell we are. Well, I’ve drawn a line in the sand, and no corporate high tide is
going to wash it out to sea. In fact, I’m not just going to draw a line in the sand, I’m going to
build a sand castle. It’ll be my secret headquarters. Drop by anytime. But before you do, sign
the petition! Together, we can restore the dignity of Irish people worldwide! Here’s the link:
www.PetitionOnline.com/lucky111/petition.html.
Comments? Email me at Admin@SurlyTaco.com
Back to Salsa
Back to Salsa
While Ireland has certainly contributed many great, upstanding citizens to the global
community, it’s also produced a few of the most dastardly (I love that word almost as much as I
love dandelions) scallywags, scoundrels, malingerers, malcontents, rascals, dipshits, shitdips,
douchebags, and out-and-out sons of bitches to ever darken the Earth with their shadow. So
today, in honor of St. Patrick’s Day, I’ve decided to declare one individual the single worst
Irishman of all time.
This was not easy. Once I started doing my research, which consisted of drinking Irish
Carbombs until I couldn’t see straight and then running down the street naked, eventually
coming-to facedown in my dinner, I found that Ireland has produced more than its fair share of
black-hearted bastards. Like the Cranberries. I mean, come on, they wrote a hit song about
zombies. That is totally insensitive to the brain-dead (actually, I don’t really have a problem
with making fun of people who can’t hear you. I mock deaf people behind their backs all the
time, or to their faces if they can’t read lips. Truth is, I just think the Cranberries suck. And I’d
throw it to Sinead O’Connor long before I’d ever tap Dolores-what’s-her-face’s ass).
The scary thing is, the Cranberries aren’t even close to the bottom of the barrel. For example,
there’s John Robert Gregg, the dude who invented shorthand (hey Gregg, f.ing blo me!). Even
worse, there are guys like Colin Ferguson who really give the Irish a bad name (Mr. Ferguson
being the man who felt the need to hop on a Long Island train and start shooting commuters.
Way to make our people look bad, dude). But even a vile murderer like Ferguson is nothing
compared to the man who I am about to declare the single worst Irishman of all time: Lucky the
Leprechaun.
community, it’s also produced a few of the most dastardly (I love that word almost as much as I
love dandelions) scallywags, scoundrels, malingerers, malcontents, rascals, dipshits, shitdips,
douchebags, and out-and-out sons of bitches to ever darken the Earth with their shadow. So
today, in honor of St. Patrick’s Day, I’ve decided to declare one individual the single worst
Irishman of all time.
This was not easy. Once I started doing my research, which consisted of drinking Irish
Carbombs until I couldn’t see straight and then running down the street naked, eventually
coming-to facedown in my dinner, I found that Ireland has produced more than its fair share of
black-hearted bastards. Like the Cranberries. I mean, come on, they wrote a hit song about
zombies. That is totally insensitive to the brain-dead (actually, I don’t really have a problem
with making fun of people who can’t hear you. I mock deaf people behind their backs all the
time, or to their faces if they can’t read lips. Truth is, I just think the Cranberries suck. And I’d
throw it to Sinead O’Connor long before I’d ever tap Dolores-what’s-her-face’s ass).
The scary thing is, the Cranberries aren’t even close to the bottom of the barrel. For example,
there’s John Robert Gregg, the dude who invented shorthand (hey Gregg, f.ing blo me!). Even
worse, there are guys like Colin Ferguson who really give the Irish a bad name (Mr. Ferguson
being the man who felt the need to hop on a Long Island train and start shooting commuters.
Way to make our people look bad, dude). But even a vile murderer like Ferguson is nothing
compared to the man who I am about to declare the single worst Irishman of all time: Lucky the
Leprechaun.