St. Patrick’s Day

Dear Readers,

My deepest regrets for not writing earlier, I know may of you have been concerned for my health, while others were hopeful that I would be scheming my way back into my Taiyuan stronghold.  Alas, the traitorous forces of the wife-sharing Commies are still too strong.  But my diviners, using the Yiching, have assured me that I will be back in Shanxi before too long.  They say Jiang Qing will desire to get back into acting and pressure Mao Zedong (who is totally whipped) to move to Hollywood, at which time I will be able to airlift my crack divisions of the JPA into place.

In the meantime, I am bored as hell in the heartland of the US.  My military advisors continue to urge me to adapt to local customs.  Their latest attempt was to introduce me to “St. Patrick’s Day,” which is supposedly some sort of Irish festival.  But it appears that is just another excuse for Americans to get stinking drunk.  I was told to wear something green, so of course I dressed in my military gear.

We went to several local watering holes and consumed copious amounts of beer and spirits.  As usual I drank my companions under the table.  After drinking fenjiu since I was 8, I can handle the booze pretty damn well.  I wish I could say the same for General Bragg–seeing a decorated war hero puke green beer is a memory I wish I had blacked out.

I did get pretty drunk, of course, and the last part of the night is pretty hazy.  I awoke this morning, still wearing my boots but not my pants, which is strange.  I am missing one of my medals, which has been replaced by a “Kiss me I’m Irish” button.  I also had a green clover drawn on my face and a rubber bracelet that reads “Sex Addict”

All in all a suitable holiday.  Hopefully we can all celebrate next year in Shanxi.



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