Tuesdays are for Soup . . . unless it’s Marth 17th


There will be no soup in my house this day.

Here’s a daughter’s soda bread:

And we’ll have some libations:

And some Irish-American victuals:


And an Irish joke:

What’s the difference between God and Bono?
God doesn’t wander around Dublin thinking he’s Bono.

And another:

Two Irishmen are sitting in a pub near the front window, which looks to a view of the most famous bordello in all of Dublin. Whilst sitting there, they see a well-known Protestant minister descending the front steps of the bordello.

“Well,” says Pat, swilling his Guinness, “what a crime. A man of the cloth, even a Protestant, should never be seen going in or out of a, you know, a house of ill repute.”

“Sure you’re apt,” says Mike.

A few minutes later, they see Rabbi Goldstein furtively making his way up the steps of the bordell.

“Oy, vey,” says Mike. “There’s another one. A Protestent and now a Jewish man of the cloth at a, you know, a house of ill repute.

The buys drink their Guinness and order another.

Then they see their own pastor, Fr. O’Phelin, making his way up the same steps.

Mike is so shocked he nearly spits outs porter, but Pat saves him by saying just in time,

“Oh, one of the whores must be dying.”

And an Irish Song

Listen to this with a glass in your hand.

And an Irish blessing:

May the saint protect ye-
An’ sorrow neglect ye,
An’ bad luck to the one
That doesn’t respect ye
t’ all that belong to ye,
An long life t’ yer honor-
That’s the end of my song t’ ye!