Sunday, April 12, 2009

Jaysus, Mary an' Joseph

I have never met an actual Irish person. I have been in the same room as one, and I have met many Americans who identify as Irish even though they couldn't tell you what a taoiseach is* or what the best Irish band is**.

I suppose that if I ever get an Irish friend (and before anyone out there objects that I don't drink enough to make any Irish friends - I'm looking at you, Mr. Linnan - you should remember that De Valera rarely drank either), the time will come when I will ask said Irish friend, "What is about your heritage that is such a magnet for goddamned..."

...and here's where the problem comes in. I can't really make a proper description of the kind of sad bastard American who gloms onto Irish mythology without using a word that is also a slur against gays. Frankly, the gays I know tend to have too much taste to get involved in robe-wearing forest-romping pennywhistle-tootling nonsense, so when I say that Irish heritage is a magnet for goddamned fruitiness, I mean that in a totally non-homophobic (and non-Hibernophobic) fashion.

Take, for instance, the world of Winter Rose, who has decided that she's some kind of unholy combination of "Garden State" and "The Black Cauldron." Her home page is a little like that of your average teenager with a "You Laugh Because I'm Different, I Laugh Because You're The Same" bumper sticker, but the more you read of the "Blessed Solstice" and "Immortal Beloveds" and "Current *Pretties* Rose Covets," the more bumper stickers appear on the car you envision her driving. By the time you start reading her embedded Livejournal, her Passat is shrouded in half-illegible fonts proclaiming "Not All Who Wander Are Lost" and "Blessed Be" and maybe even "For the Horde!"

By the time you read "Musings Upon My Faerie Blood And Traits....." you will, if you have not had your spleen removed and all negativity washed away from you, feel your eyes narrowing and the corners of your mouth tightening. Don't believe me? Try this on for size.

So As A Whole, I'm Selkie, BeanSidhe, LeananSidhe, Rusalka, And Gwragedd Annwn/Vila....... Strongly Tied To Sirens, Mermaids, Naiads, And Kitsune........

I Have A Very Deep Connection With Shape~Shifting *Faerie Bride* Maidens.......

Selkies {Seal Maidens} Valkyrie {Swan Maidens} Kitsune {Fox Maidens}
And Also Shapeshifting Deer Maidens

My Patron Goddesses: Blodeuwedd, Cliodna And Fand Are All Faerie~Bride Shapeshifters.......

I Also Have A Powerful Affinity For Vampires And Ghosts {Especially Spectral Maidens/Ladies}

They Seem To Actually Seek Me Out!

And Last, But Never Least, I *KNOW* That I'm Elven.......Something About The Elvish Languages And Culture Totally Captures Me! I Am Obsessed With Tolkien And Convinced That There's More Fact Than Fiction In His Works! I Feel An Extremely Deep Connection To Elven Princesses.......Especially Melian, Lúthien And Arwen.......

If you are like me and use the Internet as an opportunity to become the bully you never got to be in high school, then perhaps you'll be willing to move on to her entry in National Novel Writing Month, entitled "BeanSidhe's Wail." It appears to be some kind of goddamn fanfiction for her goddamn Renfaire choir full of goddamn freaks using "elegant" Irish names like Moira and Rowena and Cerys (they're never Bláthnaid or Gormflaith or Dearbháil) who are also goddamn fairies who were the goddamn inspiration for everything every brilliant artist ever did (I am going to try that sometime and say that one of my ancestors is the real genius behind the "Washington Post March"). Every time she writes something like "Enchantment" or "Shimmering" or "Magick" I feel like a leprechaun is smacking me in my temples with a shillelagh***.

So, Ireland, I bear you no ill will, but you're really going to have to do something about these losers or else you'll soon find me marching the streets on St. Patrick's Day wearing a Rangers kit and a giant medallion of Oliver Cromwell.

*it's the Prime Minister
**it's Thin Lizzy
***spelled correctly on the first try - who's Irish now, you narcissistic loon?

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