The Celtic Tiger, rancid and all as that moniker is now, did many things, good and bad. Leaving aside the financial damage, one of the worst things about it was that it presented a new face of Ireland: educated, aware, mature and dare I say it, one that was modern and seemingly at odds with that of different generations.

People appeared liberated in many respects. Sexually, artistically, literally. Freed from the choke chain of old Ireland, of religion, servile behaviour towards the ‘black and blue uniforms’. And when it combined with the growth of the internet, a medium through which people could express opinion more freely, share their thoughts with others more easily and gain an audience along with it, it was like we had grown up. Yet it was just a facade.

The continued battle from what appears to be a small minorty against the wrongdoings of the church makes a lie of that. As we birds of a feather flock to condemn them and their despicable actions, cardinal Brady gets a round of applause as he says a mass in Armagh. People are applauding a man who covered up child abuse. The institutionalisation of the Irish people by the church is so deeply ingrained in our society that everyday people think it’s normal to protect the church before you protect children from rape and buggery.

Those of us who think the way we think express outrage and dismay at what has happened, and at the lack of action taken, but doesn’t this suggest that we are in the minority? People go to mass, put money in plates, and continue to fund an organisation so corrupt that if you fictionalised it, it would be rejected on the grounds of being unrealistic. ‘Who would endure such a thing?’, the editor might say.

And if you need another example of how the liberal, modern Ireland we thought we were living in does not exist, then look at this story in today’s Irish Times. Doctor Philip Nitschke is an Australian who deals in the area of assisted suicide. An emotional issue for people, I’ll certainly agree, but in 2010 in Ireland he struggled to find somewhere to simply hold a meeting to discuss the issue. He said ‘When we came to Ireland we understood that there may be some opposition, but we did not expect such a well-orchestrated campaign of censorship. It is simply unacceptable in a civilised,western country such as Ireland to have one section of the population threaten everyone else in this way’.

And whatever you think about the subject matter, he’s right. My own thoughts on it are here, I think it’s ridiculous the way we allow people to suffer. If those of sound mind wish to die before their pain, and that of the relatives and friends who must watch the person they love endure it, becomes too great then I don’t see the problem at all.

When it comes to issues like assisted suicide there is always loud opposition from those who declare ‘it’s just not right’, perhaps quoting an irrelevant book written hundreds of years ago which we still allow to dictate the way we think and act in a modern society. Look at how vocal those who oppose civil partnership are. What are they against? They’re against people being happy, people loving each other, people enjoying the one life they’re given. How twisted and antiquated is that?

Let’s face it, these people would find bigger fault with a priest who decided he’d rather leave the church and marry a woman than a priest who abused his power to fuck children. And on the flip side, those of us who find issues like this important and necessary, if we are to grow up as a society, remain far quieter for the most part.

This is 2010 and hotels and meeting rooms are bowing to pressure from religious nuts to prevent a fucking meeting taking place. Not a same sex orgy, not the burning of bibles, a meeting about an issue which will, like it or not, affect every family in this country. Even those whackos. Perhaps they can take some solace in their belief that the pain a cancer patient suffers will be worth it as they ascend into heaven to sit at the right hand side of their god.

For those of us who live in the real world we know there is no such thing. We know that the pain is only pain, the suffering only suffering and there is no reward at the end of it but death.

We live in a deeply, fundamentally conservative country, and it doesn’t look as if anything will ever change without a fight. We allow ourselves to be dictated to by religion, even still. It is an outrage that in 2010 Dr Philip Nitschke encoutered such resistance to his meeting, the venues that gave in to the religious nutters ought to be ashamed of themselves, but it just goes to show you that the Ireland we like to think we live in isn’t that Ireland at all.

So Dublin’s getting a new theatre, which is great if you like that kind of thing. Personally, I find plays intolerable. It’s like watching a crap film but without any vaguely redeeming special effects. I know, I’m a philistine etc etc, but every single play I have gone to has been ghastly. All one of them. I can’t remember what it was, like many before me I have consigned a traumatic experience to the far distant reaches of my mind. I fear that going to another play will cause flashbacks and post-traumatic having to watch actors disorder.

The other day I was walking up Grafton Street and some girl was bellowing like a rabid moose outside Bewleys. “LUNCHTIME THEATRE! ONLY €5! GET YOUR LUNCHTIME THEATRE”.

For me the idea of combining my lunchtime with theatre is utterly repellent. It’d be like having a great big chunk of Kobe beef then smearing it with Chef tomato ketchup. Lunchtime is for eating, perhaps reading a book or enjoying some pleasant conversation with a companion. It’s certainly not for sitting around having to listen to some actor or actress ‘emote’ in your face. And with all due respect, if lunchtime theatre is where you are displaying your ‘craft’ then I certainly don’t want to have to suffer it. I do not go to the Phoenix Park on a muddy Sunday if I want to watch quality football.

Anyway, I’m sure those that enjoy plays will enjoy this new theatre. Perhaps it will give some of these actors a bigger stage on which to perform and then get a small non-speaking part in a film with Brendan Gleeson in it.

The older I get the more I prefer my own company. Or at least to choose my own company. New Year’s Eve is not a night to spend out amongst the thronging hoards. And today is especially a day to avoid the mayhem of town and pubs and packed streets.

The day off is welcome but I’ll spend it in Ron’s having pints. Nobody will bother us there. And if by some chance a pack of revellers find their way to the front door they’ll be told that this is not the pub for them.

I’ll get drunk, probably, I’ll listen to Dirty Dave wonder which I’d rather be: A snake, a bishop with x-ray vision or a panda who eats muslims but goes blind for an hour after each meal. Lucky Luciano is back more regularly now, the triplets are growing up and the man who kills for a living is finding it hard to live with four Italian women, he needs the company.

At some point the bar food will be procured. Last week Stinking Pete brought in a platter of cheese and assorted Spanish meats and some home made apple wine. He’s currently in John of Gods undergoing intensive treatment for a Hugh Fearnley-Whittlingtittlingstall addiction.

We’ll raise a glass to him today and avoid the slippery puke of the streets, the spread of litter and the stale belchy air. Happy St Patrick’s day.

Have just heard this man on Newstalk and he made my blood boil, more that the usual church apologists do as well. They were discussing the cardinal Sean Brady scandal in the light of the statement issued by the catholic communications office. You can view it in all it’s farcical glory here.

His argument consisted of two things:

1 – It all happened a long time ago and things were different back then

2 – The catholic church were not the only organisation involved in sexual abuse

With regard to the first argument he makes it sound as if raping kids and covering it up wasn’t as bad back then as it is now. As if somehow, since 1975 when Sean Brady chose to cover up a wicked crime, we have realised that sexual abuse of children isn’t good.

And as for the second, it’s completely irrelevant. It’s excuse making, it’s deflectionary, it’s trying to play down the seriousness of the problem. As far as I’m aware the catholic church were the only organisation whose members had taken a vow of celibacy, as rightly pointed out by Christine Buckley. The catholic church is, to this day, the only organisation that believes it can operate outside the law of the state – as per Monsignor Maurice Dooley’s comment on the Pat Kenny show yesterday. And, ultimately, the catholic church is at the centre of this particular discussion. Pointing to other groups and their crimes is entirely besides the point and does not lessen those of the catholic church one bit.

It just makes the person who brings up stuff like that sound rather pathetic. Which is exactly how Anthony Murphy, editor of the Catholic Voice, sounded. He couldn’t give a straight answer, saying that with ‘hindsight’ it’s easy to say things might have been done differently. What hindsight do you need when children tell you they are being raped? Father Sean Brady reported it to his superiors, the ‘punishment’ for father Brendan Smyth was that he was not allowed say mass or hear confessions – but he was allowed go around the world and sexually abuse many more children. Well played.

If I have a vicious dog and he bites a kid, I don’t need hindsight to tell me I shouldn’t put him in a room full of children. When he savages dozens of them I can’t say ‘Well, in retrospect that might not have been a good idea’. I wouldn’t get away with that as any kind of defence, neither should they.

And if you want to see what kind of a person Anthony Murphy, editor of the catholic voice is, check out their website.

Regular readers will know I’m no fan of Damien Rice. I find his songs to be twee and tedious and tuneless. His mournful acoustic twaddlings irritate the life out me but I realised that instead of obsessing and fictionalising his untimely death, I would be best served by simply not listening to the cunt.

Avoidance is a good thing, yet this very morning who am I faced with in my Irish Times? Only this man waffling about the state of the country. I’m not quite sure how to sum up the article. I would suggest that if you took his very worst song, reproduced it on a casiotone keyboard, with 41 Damien Rice voices harmonising it Enya style, with a drum track by Phil Collins and a comedy rap over the top by David ‘Wikivandal’ McSavage, it wouldn’t even come close to how shit it is.

Some example:

When I walk around Dublin, I can’t help but think that at least when the English conquered us they built some decent houses.

Good old Barratt’s Homes. Thankfully back in the day they were Georgian and Victorian and not redbricked semi-Ds with egg-shell thin walls. I mean, seriously.

My greatest surprise, when visiting the refugee camps on the Thai-Burmese border, was …

*vomit*

Did I mention I do lot of great work for charidee mate, but don’t like to talk about it? And then this:

In politics, we get stuck on old-fashioned male-dominated habits and could benefit greatly by including female qualities into our approach. Mothers represent nurturing and patience and I’d like to see more of this in politics and in all aspects of Irish life.

Surely in an enlightened society there is no such thing as male and female qualities, just human ones? It’s just mothers that represent nurturing and patience, is it? That’s news to me.

Here we are in 2010, in the midst of what is being called a “recession”.

Erm, it’s being called that because that it was it is. ‘Here we are driving along the road in what is being called a “car”‘.

He makes some suggestions about how we can make things better. They’re the usual ones from a drippy hippy point of view. Let’s focus on green energy and undo our reliance on oil. Sounds good, but if it was that fucking simple wouldn’t everyone be doing it by now? Then you read about research in the Guardian which confirms what I’ve long suspected, that the Greeners are so smug about their own greenosity they’ll cheat and steal more than normal people. I bet Damien Rice cheats at video games too. Like if his mate is coming around for a Pro Evo Soccer tournament he’ll edit all his players to give them 99 in all their skills, even goalkeeping, and make sure his opponents team are nobbled by giving them a purple down arrow for their form.

As for the ‘riddle’ at the start – he claims to have shared it with numerous friends and strangers (the idea of Damien Rice randomly bombarding passers-by with this as they mind their own fucking business is enraging, I have to admit), with only one 16 year old getting it. What can you say? Clearly all of his friends are fucking retarded and he’s had the misfortune of encountering one grotesquely stupid person after another.

But then birds of a feather, and all that …

Download mp3

Clip via Today with Pat Kenny, RTE Radio 1, March 15th 2010 – link to full show

This is the kind of fucked up thinking that brought about the abuse of so many Irish children, why so many lives were ruined, and why even now there’s no sense of doing the right thing. Mostly because they don’t know what the right thing is.

The cardinal Sean Brady story is just another depressing example of the way the church has abused its power and influence. When they’re using the same defence as the Nazis you know something is seriously wrong.

Still, listening to Newstalk’s breakfast show they had some people coming out of mass and they asked them if Brady should resign. The first person said yes. The remainder were agin’ it.

‘Are you going to put everyone on trial for what they did?!’, said one chap, as if this was a ludicrous suggestion. Imagine, in Ireland, people being held accountable for what they do. Let me rephrase that, people who believe they’re better than the rest of us. It’s widespread. Priests and bishops, politicians of all shapes and sizes, and even the Twatterati of Ireland’s celebrities think it’s ok to behave differently than you or I. And when they get caught they think they should be treated differently too.

Punishment is for the plebs. Paying for your crimes, being responsible for your actions and their consequences, well that’s just not something they should have to deal with. The hoi-polloi, the ones who pay their wages and contribute to their wicked organisations, let them deal with trifles like drink driving, fraud, embezzlement, payments in brown envelopes, the deaths of people in hospitals due to sheer incompetence, rape, child abuse, systematic cover-ups and everything else.

Here’s the thing – these people are not better than us. They’re just the fucking same. A collection of folk, some of whom are nice, the majority of whom are insufferable pricks. Yet this perception is pervasive in Irish society, the cap doffing, genuflecting masses still see them as a step above, and until people change their way of thinking then they’ll continue to behave appallingly, knowing they can get away with it.

“I wonder”, said Stinking Pete, “if doing a Japanese accent when talking to a black person is racist”.

“Don’t be stupid”, replied Dirty Dave. “It can’t be racist because it’s not about black people. You can only be racist about them. That’s the way I learned it anyway”.

“You idiot. Racism isn’t just against black people. It’s against anyone involved in another race that isn’t white. So me trying to sound like Junichi Kishawaki is probably racist”.

“But black people have seemed to capture the market in the whole racism thing, haven’t they?”

“They have, I suppose”.

“When you think about it that’s a bit racist of them”.

“I don’t think you can ever solve the problem of racism, you know. Not as long as there are other races”.

“What if you put something in the water that made everyone the same colour?”

“What colour?”

“Something neutral, I suppose”.

“Beige?”

“No, that’s racist because we’re beige-ish. Or slightly pinked. It’d have be a pale mauve. There are no mauve races at the moment”.

“What do you call someone who is against races in which competitors try to cross a finish line as quickly as possible?”

“Racerist?”

“No, that’s someone who doesn’t like bikes with dropped handlebars”.

“I saw someone the other day with the racer handlebars turned upwards”.

“Just another sign that we’re regressing to the 1980s. I bet he was wearing drainpipes too”.

“He sure was. Wham bar?”

“Don’t mind if I do”.

I’m not the kind of person who would be on Sting’s side in anything. Even during his Simpson’s appearance I wanted the little boy who was down the well – who wasn’t down the well at all until Bart fell down the well – to die before Sting got there.

However, in one thing he is right and that is his insistence that people don’t stand too close to him. Today I was talking to somebody who stood way too close to me. And when I backed up a bit he forwarded down (I assume that’s the opposite).

It is horribly uncomfortable. Worse than shaking somebody’s hand to discover their palms are sweatier than prop forward’s gooch at the end of a game. You don’t want to wipe their sweaty hand slurm on your clothes, nor do you want to leave your hands dripping. Yet I would prefer that a hundred times to one encounter of a close stander.

Stupid making me agree with Sting cunts.

I don’t really have anything to say about Mary Harney. I think we’re all well aware of her inherent and consistent crapness as the health minister. I just liked the title.

She’s off swanning around New Zealand at the moment, you know. With her husband and various flunkies. This is not any kind of surprise either.

The annual Paddy’s day junkets have begun. There’ll be no first class travel though. No, sir. Tighten our belts time. Just business class. And no hotel suites. No way. We have to count our pennies. Just normal rooms in 5-star hotels. And no limos. Just top of the range hire cars that will be driven by somebody else.

I think it says a lot about our celebrations than politicians can’t wait to get the fuck out of here rather than stay home and have a pint with us mere mortals.