Fare Thee Well Enniskillen! Obama Stepped on His Johnson Again! Not With Vlad or Cambridge PD, Catholics Again.

The Enniskillen G-8 Dragoons!

Vlad. -" So, . . .Catholic Schools are the problem, Huh?  Ohhhh,Kay!"

BHO - " Attitude."

Vlad - " Soooooooo . . .nice tractors.  How's she cuttin'?"

BHO - " Excuse me?"

President Obama reads anything they put in front of him and the same goofs who have destroyed public education here in Chicago ( Durbin, Rahm, Arne Duncan, Karen Lewis, Jesse Sharkey, Bill Ayers, Mike Klonsky et al) managed to have Val Jarrett slip this one in over the weekend in Northern Ireland.

 “If towns remain divided—if Catholics have their schools and buildings and Protestants have theirs, if we can’t see ourselves in one another and fear or resentment are allowed to harden—that too encourages division and discourages cooperation,”

It seems that context is everything and Catholics from Glasgow to Guam are not pleased. Once again, the rhetorical Harry Potter of the West has stepped on his Rhetorical Johnson . . .again!

Let's Pipe Jim Out with Fare Thee Well Eniskillen!  A song that delights Protestants and Catholics alike!






The President has lived up to my expectations and will continue to do so.

On Raglan Road - The Incomparable Luke Kelly Sings Patrick Kavanaugh's Poem

Raglan Road is named for a 'hero' of the Crimean War - FitzRoy Somerset, 1st Baron Raglan.  Dublin is loaded with British identity.  A great poet from County Monaghan Patrick Kavanaugh wrote one of the great love poems about a gent who met a girl on the Raglan Road in Ballsbridge Dublin. The poem's voice recalls the choice of engaging love and being shattered in the heart by taking the plunge. or retreating like sniveling craven and risking nothing. The lad went at it!

Here is the great Luke Kelly's version.

 

On Raglan Road

On Raglan Road on an autumn day I met her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue;
I saw the danger, yet I walked along the enchanted way,
And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day.

On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge
Of the deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion's pledge,
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay -
O I loved too much and by such and such is happiness thrown away.

I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign that's known
To the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint. I did not stint for I gave her poems to say.
With her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over fields of May

On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow
That I had wooed not as I should a creature made of clay -
When the angel woos the clay he'd lose his wings at the dawn of day. 

Patrick Kavanagh

The Late Luke Kelly's Linguistics

Enunciate! The man had a tongue like a buggy-whip. Now, pay attention.












Got it? Practice, children, practice.