Erin Go / Bragh

 2021-03-13 Erin Go / Bragh

Like a moth drawn to / the fire, where else would (y)our man Cin the humble(d) narrator of this Take This Thing Back to Baltimore me-moirs and Erin Go / Bragh be after finding himself of this Saturday mo(u)rning (hooker please -id.) before during and after it becomes another Sadurday Night and I Ain’t Got Nobody but at the place where it all began, (gh)O(st)-Town’s Bank Street and WTF is the name of this cross-street, he’s only been here 100 000 times, and at the tail end of what in most non-COVID the mist that four-lettered word years is the (gh)O(st)-Town St. Patrick’s Day parade because Erin Go / Bragh, innit Mr. King, the corner of Bank Street and Grove Avenue is all / we gots.

Course it’s a god-awful date for a National holiday at the best / of times, innit god, Cinadian (hooker please -id.) mid-March weather russian roulette in years past for the (gh)O(st)-Town St. Patrick’s Day parade has included cold that four-lettered word so, well, cold that even (y)our man Cin and his droog the earthly JC - ‘Moses’ a Rugby Mom mixed / this biblical metaphor  when she called out to you at dawn and still working / the room at that Rugby Club party, held at her beautiful chalet on the Gatineau River, ‘Moses !’ - have had to shelter indoors, before during and after their annual voluntold shift of directing traffic at the Parade, snaking its’ way from its’ start at (gh)O(st)-Town’s City Hall / underground dungeon and from there down Bank Street like the snakes chased out Ireland by (y)our man Saint Patrick back in the day, innit Jim, mixing / (t)his biblical metaphor is all / we gots.

Herding snakes is one thing, and herding cats like for Game Day at Rugby Club another - and chasing (y)our (wo)man Miss ‘Rona that COVID mist that four-lettered word out China ‘like chasing mice’ (y)our (China)man Dr. ‘Mr . Perfect’ Zhang calls it better ‘in a china shop’, innit Mr. King - but hurting (hooker please -id.) oh no he means herding the Yuppy Scum demographic that makes up most of the local drivers intent on driving onto (gh)O(st)-Town’s Bank Street before during and after its’ annual Saint Patrick’s Day Parade and in spite of the fact that four-lettered word of the Parade floats going by even at the same time is quite / another, with the yuppy scum in their non-Don’t Let the Subaru Fool You -Subarus honking and honking and honking their horns the morning noon and night of the Parade Day and requiring correction and traffic-calming measures (the removal and replacement of the wooden traffic barriers along Bank Street) and sometimes threats and retaliation because Irish(men) from (y)our men Cin and Earthly  JC both in their annual role of Parade Voluntold Traffic Control, everyone loves a parade is all / we gots.

Some years we do it because Irish, innit Coombsy, some because community service - Cin’s halcyon pre-regime-zero days and decades falling through what passes as (gh)O(st)-Town and the Cinadian (hooker please -id.) legal systems both like being ‘abducted’ (y)our man Cin calls them better to who(m)ever will listen, ‘by space aliens’, his brief and never-ending three-day stint at Holiday Innes’s stony lonesome and the  rarely-advertised stripey hole found beneath (gh)O(st)-Town’s City Hall, all of which overseen even in the pre-COVID era by (y)our (wo)man the Video Judge, who never dares or deigns to come down into the dungeon but hands down the daily verdict on closed-caption TV beamed into the seven circles / of hell (that’s enough -id.) that passes for (gh)O(st)-Town and the Cinadian legal systems both, ‘and what’, (y)our man Danny the Drug Dealer akses the be-wigged Brexit Old Bailey judge in Bruce Robinson’s film Withnal and I better, before during and after being  upbraided by the same for showing up to Court in something other than his Number Ones, innit It, ‘do you think you / look like ?’ - but mostly we voluntold as traffic control for the Saint Patrick’s Day Parade because goombahs and the complementary tickets to the line dancing and Guinness-coiffing post-parade party at Lansdowne Park that follows, innit Moses, ‘but most of all’ (y)our man Homer J. Simpson as always has it better, before during and after that episode of The Simpsons in which Homer is reminded of the many ways that the evil clown Sideshow Bob has tried and failed to kill every member of Homer’s family, and more / than once, ‘I’ll remember / the laughs’, abducted by space aliens is all / we gots.

Course other March 14ths or in the vicinity St. Patricks’ Day (gh)O(st)-Town parade days have been warmer - only two days ago (y)our (wo)men Cin and the(ir) pandemic Miss ‘Rona roommate the(ir) Ma Noslouc went skiing at nearby Mont Ste. Marie, before during and after the(ir) Ma got the first of her two anti-Miss ‘Rona mist that four-lettered word shots, over in Gracefield on the Quebec side, innit Mr. King, and it was wicked warm, 16 degrees in the celsius, though today it’s back to wicked seasonal cold and frankly March monsoons all week-end because global warming and all / that  but no one cares -  and (y)our man Cin the humble(d) narrator of this Take This Thing Back to Baltimore me-moirs and Erin Go / Bragh in the halcyon pre-regime zero days and nights and decades playing / the flaneur before during and after the parade and even the post-parade, ‘Lord Elgin’ one of his fellow-flaneurs earned his nom-de-boire better for frequenting the pubs and drinking establishments up and down one of the (gh)O(st)-Town streets named for a Brexit eminence from back in the 18th morning noon and night, ‘that bartender in the green dress’, known only to Cin because by that time in (t)his drinking career an almost entirely solo flaneur, ’was working’, (y)our man Cin said it better by way of entire and not-cincorrect explanation for a more cinfamous Cinada Day (hooker please -id.) cincident, the one in which the local constabulary thought that (y)our man Cin should leave the Fox and Feather RIP waiting room that day because drunk as Lord Elgin but (y)our man Cin thought otherwise because red-hot bartender upstairs, and fisticuffs followed by Out Came the Cuffs ensued, and the rest is (her)story, ‘they said you did’ Bono and the rest of U2 sing it better in their track In the Name of the Father from the Jim Sheridan film of the same name, ‘you said you did / not’, red-hot bartenders in green dresses is all / we gots.

Or maybe he’s just / hallu-cin-ating it all (hooker please -id.), ‘I don’t know what country / we’re in’ (y)our man Cin said it better before during and after one of his visits to the Holiday Innes’ stoney lonesome back in the halcyon pre-regime zero days and nights and decades - ‘the blood’ (y)our man Mickey Rourke’s character Marv says it better in Robert Rodriguez’s film Sin City, ‘by the bucket days’ -   ‘what planet / we’re on’, and sure this year’s O-Town Saint Patrick’s Day parade, cancelled for the second year in a row because Miss ‘Rona that COVID mist that four-lettered word innit Mr. King, makes it even more discombobulating, between all of the booze and the devil’s dandruff and the cincussions, ‘and we weren’t that bright’, innit DD, ‘to begin with’, Erin Go Bragh is all / we gots.  

      Thank you for reading this Take This Thing Back to Baltimore me-moirs and Erin Go / Bragh .