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"Special Paddy's Day Issue"

A Visit From The Ghost Of Paddy's Day Future (Part 1)

says Robert when asked if he plans to marry again, "I'm in a bad mood. I 'm gonna hafta quit this gig, I hate schedules!"
Damon, round as a beach ball and now entirely indistinguishable from Andrew (who bears a striking resemblance to Friar Tuck) is still mad at Robert, but he claims, "No its not for that it's about something else entirely." Like Andrew and Katie beside him he continues to ponder what he wants to be when he grows up. "Jack did it until he was fifty and look how he turned out!"
Speaking of which, Jack is now known to be spending his entire workday believing he is in charge of a substance abuse treatment facility favored by the Irish bartenders union, though his precise role there is less than clear. 
Paddy Grace meanwhile continues to appear not to age at all, a particular surprise to those who thought he was already eighty and never knew he was only in his forties when they met him back in the 1990's. Of his silent complicity in half the pubs in town and prospective co-ownership of the Red Sox with Steve "The Dude" Sadowski, Paddy says, " No, I don' know nuttin' 'bou' dat atall. Yud afta ask him about all dat. I'm gowin 'ome now to Maura, she's after havin' me dinner waitin' enIi don' like ta disappoint 'er. Here come on lads we'll all have one more now and forget about all dis tings everyone's always on about."
Steve, as usual, had a burger and a couple of beers and left without getting too involved in it all but rumor has it he's the one finally collected on the private dancer hired at his suggestion to entertain Feargal during his bed rest.  "That was a time sensitive contract. The ramifications of leaving the specifications open to renegotiations and possible gentrification were an abomination. And besides I was drunk and she called me!"
Next month, the Ghost reveals more of the Future!

By Gentleman Jack, Special Correspondent
So Jacob Marley paid an after hours visit to a recently hallucinating patron (we won't mention any names, but his initials are Dave Forbes).  Accompanied by the rhythms of his illegitimate son Bob (who looked suspiciously like Mark Clark), visions of the future were revealed. Twenty five years from now the nOg line-up continues to live in infamy; here's some of what was revealed to the dreamer of the year 2525:
Busting loudly to the head of the men's room cue with a loud refusal to wait was Feargal O'Toole. Currently resembling Jabba the Hut and still chasing young girls, Feargal is now so fat he leans on a false staff and, using a trick taught him by Uncle Ned, keeps his pecker tied to a string attached to his belt loop so he can find it. True to form, he continues to spend more time at PAs than in the nOg where he manages his extensive casino empires with a cell phone from a stool in the corner. He continues to return to the state in the form of Keno tickets the millions plus plenty penalties and interest for the taxes and water bills he hasn't ever paid in all these years. When asked about this continuing debacle he confronts his readers that this plan is ecologically sound in that he has saved a forest (and a fortune in accounting fees) by not filling out all that paperwork. "I got better things to do with my time than that! Gimme a ticket!"
Robert Elliott, meanwhile, appears to have recently lost his penchant for bow ties along with the food slobbers on his vest and the yellow nicotine stains that had been growing expansively along his Howard Hughes fingernails and still mysteriously thickening forelocks. Rumor has it that he's fecked off to a island in the Mediterranean where he is scheduled to teach fiddling to a scantily dressed crew in an oh so exclusive school for gifted youth that apparently all look like Damon. "Fuck off!"

Tir na nOse Vol. 3, Issue 1, March 2001
All your beer are belong to us!

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