What’s Irish and only comes out once a year? Patio furniture. Not the best joke in the world but it’s one of the few you can tell at the kitchen table even if your kids look at you like you’re an oil painting and say, “I don’t get it.” In addition, I didn’t write it, so I’m just the messenger. Or the thief. Depends on your point of view, I guess. Anyway, the only reason I opened with an Irish joke is because St. Patrick’s Day is this Sunday and if you are planning to celebrate, be sure to pay special attention to your horoscope which will be coming up shorty. I mean shortly. Two days away and I’m already subliminally channeling the wee people*
(*for more information on wee people, please read the back of any box of Lucky Charms).
In addition to St. Patrick festivities, this week marks another significant occasion, the election of a new pope, Pope Francis, from Argentina. To me it’s amazing how quickly they have to get to work. If I’m not mistaken, he was on the job the day after accepting the offer. No two weeks notice or anything.
The people back home have to be a bit shell shocked. Everyone says Cardinal Bergoglio was a simple man and very hands on. I can imagine the other priests stationed at his old rectory in Argentina scrambling around when a fuse blows or something.
“The microwave just blew. Where’s the junction box?”
“I don’t know. Cardinal Bergoglio always took care of that stuff.”
“Terrific. I knew this day would come. For years, I begged him. ‘Jorge, you can’t run around doing everything yourself. What if you’re not here? What if one day they make you Pope? You got to write this stuff down.'”
“You want me to call him up?”
“You have his number at the Vatican?”
“No. He forgot to leave it.”
I wish I could be a fly on the wall to see how someone goes from being Cardinal one day to the Pope the next. Do you think there’s a human resources person at the Vatican that sits down with him first thing and goes over the benefits plan, you know sick days and flex time, subsidized gym memberships? The new Pope probably has to find somebody to forward his dry cleaning from Argentina. Probably magazines, too. Has to be lots of logistical stuff. New emails, twitter accounts…
Just seems like a lot to pile on one man in such a short time frame. Well, I wish him luck!
On to your horoscope. All you need to know is Mercury is in retrograde and from what I’ve learned by eavesdropping on people who hang out at hookah bars, that ain’t good. This is a time of the year when the little planet appears to go backwards leading to all sorts of problems related to the areas of life that it rules, including information, communication, transportation and negotiation.
The most innocent action can lead to drastic consequences.
You might forget to put a dime in the parking meter and through a series of escalating misunderstandings with the meter maid end up doing 16 years to life in Leavenworth. You may go to one of those big box shopping club stores like Costco for a single five pound bag of frozen Tilapia filets and end up maxing out your credit card by impulsively purchasing a mechanical massage chair, a pasta maker, a shrink wrapped 50 count package of flannel shirts and a riding mower — even though you live on the twelfth floor of an apartment building. Actually that happens every time someone goes to those shopping club stores but it’s 3-4% worse when Mercury’s acting up.
So here’s my advice for you for this weekend. Get under the covers and stay there and if you absolutely, positively have to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day this Sunday, lock your doors, Fed-ex your car keys back to yourself for a Monday morning delivery and watch the Quiet Man.
Have a great weekend!
© 2013 The Monkey Bellhop and John Hartnett