Ahhh, now this is our idea of a traditional Irish St. Patrick’s day: watching a lone drunkard rant at a large crowd. OK, usually it’s us yelling at the crowd, and the crowd is mainly just police officers, and hey that toilet was like that when we got here and we don’t know who stuffed two rolls of paper towels in there and tried to light it on fire with that can of hairspray that was just sitting there. So anyway, this year we’re taking it easy and letting somebody else do the drunken screaming. While we’re not always in tune with his politics — we’re with Team Karl Marx on the other end of the tinfoil-hat spectrum — we do enjoy his pointedly bellicose delivery and fuck-you-for-giving-a-fuck attitude. Frankly, it reminds us of Grandpa McBoozetalk, and that just warms our hearts.