All Entries in the "Soft News" Category

GREEN BEER NO HELP WITH ERECTILE DYSFUNCTIONS

Health Claims Disputed

(Montrose) Green beer, often associated with non-sanctioned St Patty’s Day parties thrown by gentiles, offers absolutely no relief in the arena of erectile dysfunction and other related maladies as determined by a prestigious Hibernian disorder.

The colored beer, often seen as a crude offense (much like potato tossing and brick stacking competitions) by persons of the Irish persuasion is only cheap draft turned green by adding dye. It has no clear properties that might vaguely be considered beneficial to anyone, even livestock.

“In a desperate defense of the product we presume that the intake of enough of the stuff will create a feeling of light-headedness and in extreme cases temporary euphoria,” said Padriac McGinty, owner of The Freckled Druid, a traditional pub in Dublin. “However most people tend to throw up, wet themselves or pass out before that condition is achieved.”

According to endless disclaimers found on the side of mugs or pitchers, green beer has been found to have little affect on singing ability and could lead to drooling and stupidity. It has been linked to unsolicited rounds of barking and sudden attempts at flight. In addition, according to the warnings, the use of green beer as sun block has little consequence and regular use of the stuff can lead to chronic constipation in persons over 90. – Melvin O’Toole   

PADRIAC AND THE DEVIL

In the days before modern court reporting, an elderly lawyer of County Kildare had a young servant named Padriac, who was endowed with a phenomenal memory. The old lawyer had good reason to be proud of Padriac’s amazing talent. His servant was able to sit in court and, at any point in the process of a trial, he could reel off every word of testimony that had transpired before. Padriac’s reputation was so great that his evidence “on the record” was accepted in any court in the county.

One day, the lawyer was in his study, contentedly smoking his dhudeen, when the Devil appeared.

“What do you want?” demanded the lawyer.

“I have come for Padriac,” was the answer.

“Ah, so it’s Padriac you’d be taking’, is it?” Well my fine Dhioul, I can’t spare him, so be off with you!”

“It can’t be helped achora,” said the Devil impertinently. “His time is up. And he’s losing his memory.”

“Come now, you’re a sportin’ man,” argued the lawyer. “I’ll make a little bet with you. If Padriac’s memory is failing, he’s no good to me and you can take him. Test the man, and if you can fool him, he’s yours. But if you can’t he stays.”

“Agreed,” said the Devil with a smirk and disappeared.

Padriac was in the field digging knassters, when suddenly the Devil appeared before him.

“Do you like eggs?” asked the Devil.

“Yes,” answered Padriac, and the Devil disappeared in a puff of smoke.

The following years, from 1840 to 1851, were hectic ones in Ireland. The potato famine caused untold misery. Then the old lawyer died and Padriac was thrown out on his own. After that came a renewal of “the troubles” with England and Padriac fought the British up and down the east and west coasts of his homeland. He survived many years of hunger, of wandering and fighting with little more than a few wounds. Finally, now silver-haired and bent, he settled down on his own piece of land.

One day while Padriac was cultivating a little lot, the Devil appeared to him.

“How?” asked the Devil.

“Fried”, said Padriac.

– Patrick Ireland

VIKINGS EXPECTED TO HIT THE BEACHES THIS WEEKEND

with Danny the Druid

If you’re going to the beaches on the Irish Sea and the North Atlantic this weekend be forewarned that hordes of Lothlanders are expected to be in attendance. These Norse revelers will be particularly bothersome at the resorts of Lindisfarne and Inis Murray despite the efforts of local monks who attempted to persuade these heathens to hit spots like Fort Lauderdale and Daytona Beach instead. Last year, in 795, partying drunkards burnt down Culumcille’s Iona and even the remote casinos at Skellig Michael were ransacked by the mobs. Residents of these normally peaceful burgs were roughed up, sometimes becoming prisoners in their own dwellings.

Despite the presence of emergency police units the madness continued. Earlier this season Danes from the northern lands trashed the pristine sands of such peaceful redoubts as Inisfallen, Bangor, Moville and Clonfert. Motorcycle gangs, rumbling with the blessings of Thor and Odin wrecked the boardwalk at Bridgid’s Kildare while driving their hellish mounts through the gardens of Clonmacnois and Patrick’s Armagh.

The Vikings, and sadly some of our own, known as the Irish-Danes, stride into the fray stark naked, red hair flowing, armed with sword and shield like the ancient Gaelic warriors of Caesar’s time. Many are victims of mushroom-induced heroism. Having no respect for authority they litter at will, spit on the street, double park their long ships and even fail to tip their hats in the presence of a lady.

Young women, and yes even young men, should be aware of the flourishing slave trade that may rear its ugly head by Saturday night. Last year blonde, gluttonous Swedes are said to have carried an estimated 3000 Irish children into servitude in the Great North. Looting, a popular form of entertainment in the early 9th Century is impossible to curtail as authorities can only sit back and watch as everything from ancient bronze chalices to the Book of Kells  itself is carried off to the great halls of someone else’s Valhalla. One Kildare officer reported that the priceless Book of Durrow was used to start a bonfire at the main intersection of downtown Glendalough. These days Christians don’t burn books. Only barbarians do that.

It is hoped that by Monday things will return to normal as these demons from Scandinavia return home to their families and jobs, but what of next summer? What of next weekend?

That young punk William the Conqueror seems busy enough subjugating Saxon Britain but several of his junior officers have announced a rock festival, scheduled for the old Viking capital at Dublin for mid-October. Elizabethan carpetbaggers, at the urging of colonial interests plan a lumberjack festival in our virgin forests some time this fall. It has to stop if we intend to survive.

Although anarchy reigns on the coast there is some safety inland since the Norsemen do not seem interested in sacking that region. Unfortunately that safety will probably be short-lived, as developers, headed by the devil incarnate, Oliver Cromwell, plan a massive Victorian community east of the River Shannon. If we succeed in surviving this onslaught the Viking migrations will seem peaceful by comparison.

Beached at Pantano du Sul

At dawn the big, yellow double-decker wound and burrowed its groggy way from the Pampas of Uruguay to the dark green coastal mountains of southern Brazil. Passing palms and paineira trees recharged its droopy-eyed cargo, suddenly mesmerized by the brilliant morning sun. By mid-morning the blue lapping Atlantic, having given up Spanish, is now speaking Portuguese.

The pristine Solidao Beach, a short hike from town

Only two more bus rides from the city of Florianopolis, clammily clogged in the traffic of a slow summer samba, and finally a siesta on the beach in Pantano del Sul, a pretty fishing town on the southern tip of Isla Santa Catarina. Running fifty miles north to south this diverse island, about six hours south of Sao Paulo, is comprised of sub-tropical Atlantic forests, 42 distinct beaches, countless waterfalls and lagoons. The island gets crowded in January but tranquil Pantano makes a particularly good place to immerse with the gulls and the iguanas. Its’ ramshackle restaurant row, brightly painted houses and colorful fishing boats pop out like foam from a sweet yet salty dream.

The residents, originally from the Azores, settled the three-street village in the 1870s. Most can’t make a lot of sense of the tourists that started coming here only in recent years. Mandatory gear: flip-flops, a beach chair and a swim suit…the summer masquerade from December to April…hiking boots, sun screen, rain gear and a hat for the nearby mountains. A few  obrigados (thank yous) mixed in with an occasional Tudo bem? (How are things?), a little respect and a big smile easily uncork the natural friendliness of the natives.

Remembering the initial efforts to preserve the jungles and beaches that surround the town, one resident told me that the local populace was at first cold to the greening of the south end of the island until they realized that the environment-friendly designation, established in 2000, not only slowed the mindless march of progress but it brought needed dollars into the economy.

“It kept their lives on the slow cycle. Fish are not a solid commodity,” laughed Nana, who has lived here since 1993. “Some years the local catch all but disappears, but tourists looking for the natural experience can be counted on more and more to drop a few reals in town, at least in the six-month summer.”

Originally from Puerto Alegre, some 400 kilometers south, she told me that the best time to visit the island was either October or April when the summer people thinned and the place was super serene.

“It’s not the tropics, but the summer stays around well into June when things cool off substantially in Uruguay and Argentina,” she said from the deck of her striking wood frame house blessed with a commanding view of the bay.

Pantano du Sul, at the southern tip of Isla Santa Catarina

Then it’s just you and a few fishermen. Peace is a tranquil morning hiking to Praia Solidao (Solitude Beach) or a stroll through the figueira or sinamomo trees to rocky points that stretched out into the open Atlantic like abyssal fingers on the steady hand of a sharp-eyed sea dog.

Down on the water there are no high rise hotels like up north at Praia Dos Ingleses or  Rio Vermelho where noisy, perfumed Argentine visitors rev their engines and turn up the bass. Instead of most of the local families gather in the middle of town on the church steps at dark.

Gossip runs from fishing to family matters usually covering Carnival and futbal, which are hot topics the year round. First its the older folk watching the world creep by, then later in the evening it’s the teenagers flirting within the ancient, often awkward, ritual of boy meets girl. All are simply engaging in soaldades(feeling souls touch) while small seafood restaurants serve up Tainha, Amehouges and Espada along with tender Calamari. If one has a craving for shrimp it is the local custom to order the crustaceans by the name Lula (referring to Lula de Silva, the popular President of Brazil).

At the Arante Bar, just feet from the sea, I sit sipping caipirinhas(little peasant girls), made from aguardente (cane liquor) fresh limes, sugar and lots of ice. At our large table in the window sit an international contingent: a technical writer from Paris, two pro futbal/soccer players from Moldavia, a local theater director, a teacher from Florianopolis, a local hotel owner and an Austrian accordion player. The hot sun and the cold drinks cut through the language barrier as naturally as crabs and sandpipers whispering to the patient surf. Most of these folks speak at least five languages and tolerate my castillano and gringo Portuguese.

Many of the residents live in houses perched on cliffs above the sea accessed by steep, narrow paths that wind through the jungle, challenging by day, treacherous by night. It is humid, the samba hangs in the branches of the trees. The air is sweet, the moon is full. After negotiating the knotty, breakneck footway in sloppy sandals I finally make it back to town and my breezy bungalow. It’s 3:30 am and the crowded cafes are still inviting but tomorrow’s plan for an early morning hike dictates restraint.

Eight well-marked trailheads of various length and difficulty promise to deposit the explorer on a stunning beach or deliver the surfer to crashing waves just a few short miles from town. The trails are better in the morning before the rain. Necessary companions include a bottle of water and this morning’s sand in one’s ears under the jungle canopy.

One can hike to Naufragados (the Shipwrecked) along the beach for about a hot four hours or take a local bus to a trailhead and climb over the mountain (3.5 kilometers) descending on a piece of sandy paradise complete with two restaurants and a small hotel. There were never more than 20 people on the beach during each of my three jaunts to that magic beach. The soft early morning here is nothing short of magnificent, unless one compares it to the shady afternoons or perhaps the blazing sunset. The fish is delicious and the beer is ice-cold.

Another trail directly from Patano lifts hikers along cobblestone hills into the jungle via a small mountain pass to Lagoinha do Este. This pristine beach which takes on the full force of the Atlantic face to face. It features incredible vistas, seasonal waterfalls and a giant fresh-water lagoon perfect for a swim after the sweltering ramble through the  forests.

– Kevin Haley

Depressants Hailed as Miracle Drug

(Trenchtown) The ever-vigil pharmaceutical industry has developed a new product aimed at counteracting to effects of anti-depressant drug therapy. The breakthrough pill, dubbed the depressant, has been heralded as the antidote for people who are getting too high, and feeling too good on anti-depressant medications.

Considering the high percentage of people currently ingesting happy pills, the depressant formula should provide a stopgap remedy for too much false happiness, as well as major profits for the manufacturer.

A stark black capsule, aimed at neutralizing the effects of the first medication would replace the bright, shiny blue or yellow anti-depressant pill. Experts say the benefits could be seen almost immediately.

Research on the depressant has been ongoing due to the increase in anti-depressant use and the perceived need to bring the patient back to normal before real therapy can run its course. It has been conducted in secret so as not to alarm the pill popping public.

“In 90% of our test cases we have found that the new drug works great,” said one researcher. “How can we expect people to achieve true happiness when they are popping attitude adjustment bombers every day? After a few weeks they have lost all that is instinctual. They don’t know how to react to the positives and negatives of daily life.”

An industry spokesman said the long-awaited anti-addiction pill, aimed at helping people get off all medication is still in the works.

“We want to develop a daily medication to help our clients come down or go up depending on what drug has been prescribed,” she said. “Then we can begin the entire process again for the next batch of those who suffer from either malady. We have mastered the mood alteration technology. Now it’s just a matter of watching how it stacks up against the ledger sheet.” – Alfalfa Romero 

FEDS MOVE TO CUT MEAT SUPPLY

(Omaha) The United States gov’ment today announced plans to cut meat supplies in an attempt to lower the nation’s consumption of a food known to make people more aggressive.

The program, which identified carnivores as the culprits in most of the violent acts committed here, strongly suggests that meat control is overdue. Supporters of the move in Congress insist that people don’t need red meat everyday to survive.

“It’s one thing to possess enough red meat to protect oneself from protein deficiency but another matter when people’s freezers are filled to the brink with high-powered roasts and multi-clip flank steaks,” say the legislators.

Sources in Washington confide that while the gov’ment seeks to protect the personal rights of its citizens, as laid out in the Constitution and Bill of Rights, there are gaping holes between personal freedoms and burgeoning anarchy.

“We must tighten controls on meat laws and be sure that all meat owners/eaters are registered,” said voices in the above group. “That means a more responsible meat lobby, zero tolerance red flagging of felons and better record keeping at meat shows and in butcher shops across the country.”

Critics say that with its poor track record the gov’ment should not run anything except clocks, solar power, ferris wheels and downtown buses (the latter being questionable).

Many feel that if the gov’ment gets a foot in the door with regards to meat control now, future leaders may try to take the measure farther down the road, threatening their choice cuts. They say a well stocked freezer is a deterrent to an assortment of threats from within and without.

“In Europe they don’t eat as much meat and they have problems too,” said a meat advocate. “In South America people eat meat at every sitting if they can afford it and, with the exception of Colombia, Peru, Brazil, Argentina, Paraguay and Venezuela, violence has remained minimal.”

Despite warnings of further crackdowns, meat sales are keeping pace with weapons sales in 2013.

“We need tenderloin answers here and the feds throw us a bone,” stressed militant vegetarians gathered outside the White House this morning. “Meat is worshiped here and in many places around the world. We don’t see much changing with a lot of new gov’ment regulations. It’s all whitewashing on the cake.”

Still others have a different perspective.

“Meat is not the problem,” say slave-wage child care workers camped in the capital, objecting to further cuts in federal funding for mental hospitals. The mental health of our nation is at the rotten core. Professional psychiatric help is only available for the rich and for those who are really off the wagon. The needs of those in the middle are ignored as state and local governments do not budget funds to successfully fight these explosive problems.

“Our modern world is manic and we are in denial,” said one psychologist accompanying the protesting workers. There is no reason for Americans to assault a piece of red meat at every sitting, is there?”

“Our culture has become non-responsive to the people who created it in the first place. Mechanized robots and consumer zombies will not benefit from analysis. Yet fitting in too well in a society gone mad speaks volumes as to the sanity level of our citizens,” she continued. In short, she gasped, if we outlaw meat only outlaws will have it.”

“If you don’t believe the country is nuts just hang around a Wal-Mart parking lot, watch TV or listen to the right and left banter over our Dunkin’ Donuts mornings and Bud Lite afternoons,” she said. “Americans have come to accept all kinds of phony replacements for what was once real life. We expect simulated red meat to make its entrance if it hasn’t already.”

Ugly rumors that the gov’ment will also seek to cut testosterone levels was not confirmed at press time. Reacting to stats indicating that male violence accounts for 95% of the world’s woes, the feds see this maneuver as the number one objective.

Meanwhile a nation-wide bovine hunger strike creeps into its third day with cows refusing lunch and dinner until ranchers “get a little more creative with the pasture cuisine”. It is not clear if these developments are related in any way.

– Tommy Middlefinger