#irish tenor
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Charlie Chaplin on set of âThe Rinkâ, 1916. With him, famed Irish Tenor John McCormack (large gentleman to his right).
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MST3K Karaoke: Catalina Caper - Creepy Girl
@balladofeasyrider âs Tommy Kirk posts have got this song stuck in my head.
#youtube#mst3k#mystery science theater 3000#catalina caper#song#creepy girl#tom servo#crow t robot#joel robinson#kevin murphy#irish tenor
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Opera and concert singer John McCormack, with wife and daughter, posing for cameramen before boarding SS Majestic. McCormack with Winfield Sheehan and J. J. McCarthy. McCormack and family waving as ship leaves the pier.
#John McCormack#McCormack#opera#bel canto#opera singer#concert#singer#Irish tenor#tenor#song#Lyric tenor#songwriter#Covent Garden#popular song#Royal Opera House#ROH#Royal Albert Hall#RAH#classical music#music history#aria#maestro#classical studies#classical singer#falsetto#Timbre#tessitura
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miku playing irish tenor banjo!!
#the tenor banjo was kinda my little way of combining my american and irish culture. tenor banjo history is also supa interesting btw#<-please let me banjopill someone i can be normal and trusted about this instrument#international miku#hatsune miku#worldwide miku#miku fanart#vocaloid#vocaloid fanart#hatsune miku fanart#irish miku#ireland#digital art#illustraion#artists on tumblr
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went to see the high kings stoned tonight lads more like HIGH kings am I right????
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#finally relearning irish tenor banjo after stopping for a year because bad relationship and deep depression#it feels very good to make nice sounds#I can play twooooo whole songs : D#short songs#my therapist gonna be so proud
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Irish Tenor Music
Michael Daly is renowned for his enchanting renditions of Irish tenor songs, capturing the essence of Ireland's musical heritage with his soulful voice. His repertoire spans traditional Irish ballads, folk tunes, and poignant melodies, each delivered with emotive depth and stirring passion. Daly's performances transport listeners to the verdant landscapes and rich cultural tapestry of Ireland, evoking nostalgia and stirring the heart. With his mastery of the Irish tenor style, Daly has become a beloved figure in the realm of Celtic music, captivating audiences worldwide with his timeless interpretations and heartfelt performances.
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The Irish Tenors - April 2024 The Irish Tenors and Celtic Ladies was a good show with typical Irish singing and dancing. But I am posting this image because it is a very good image. In this particular scene, the colors, textures, positioning of the players, the angle of the lights, was all set up to bring the audience into the song and to bring the singers out into the audience. I just happened to capture that perfect composition. MWM
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Tom Waits for no man.
Mom always called him The Irish Anti-Tenor
#Tom Waits#The Irish Anti-Tenor#Music#Weird Music#Experimental Music#Genius#godly#love#quality#too cool
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Maryâs Boy Child - The Irish Tenors
Hark! Now hear the angels sing A new King born today, And man will live forevermore Because of Christmas Day.
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Charlie Chaplin on set of âThe Rinkâ, 1916. With him, famed Irish Tenor John McCormack (large gentleman to his right).
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Better Of Two Evils
Summary: After Damianâs flirty nature comes to life, youâre left to deal with its aftermath with no other than the Demon King and his Human vessel.
Pairings: BĂĄlor x F!Reader x Finn
Warnings: +18, smut, slight heresy, mentions of worship, p in v, oral (f receiving), curse words, slight dom x sub.
A/N: This is my birthday gift for the amazing @theworldofotps , she wanted a sequel to Salome so I hope you like it, babe. I wish you nothing but the best in your new journey and I hope itâs filled with all good things one can have in life! I love you so much, thank you for being my friend, and for being one of the most amazing people Iâve ever had the pleasure to meet in my life. You truly deserve the world and I hope you have an amazing day love ya.
Tags: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @daddyhausen , @melissahausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @mjfass , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @moxkindagirl , @sunshinevirus , @im-just-a-mississippi-girl , @ripleyswhore
Of Damianâs flirty nature, you were already aware of, not only because of Finnâs endless warnings but also because youâve witnessed the Puerto Rican manâs charm over women a handful of times now.
Damian flirts with everyone, literally everyone. No matter the age, gender, or ethnicity, he always found a way to captivate whomever he interacted with. And it was no different with you.
âWow, mamiâ Damian whistled when you entered through the clubâs back door. âYouâre gonna give a man a heart attackâ.
Your outfit was less than impressive, since it was a low night at the club you decided for a more casual look: a navy blue velvet tracksuit, along with a pair of black All Stars summed up your outfit for the night.
âAlways a charmer, huh?â You chuckled, unaware that Finn was approaching you from behind.
âWhat can I say?â Damian smirked âA beautiful woman has the power to bring out the best in meâ
âAnd your best is to be an ultimate flirt?â You narrowed your eyes playfully
âWhen it comes to you, yeahâ the amused wide grin on Damianâs face was more than enough to make you giggle.
âYouâre a menace, sirâ
âSir?â His eyes widened in surprise, not wasting the opportunity to tease you further. âMami, if youâre gonna start calling me that then we just might have to go upstairs right nowâ Damian winked at you with a smirk plastered on his lips. âIâll even rent the VIP room, just for youâ.
Now you have to laugh. A little more than you shouldâve, but who could blame you? The guy had great timing and impeccable humor.
âWow, how could I say no to thatâ Your nonchalant tone left no room for doubt that you took his teasing in an amicable way, similar to two siblings poking fun at each other, you had no intentions of taking this to a more intimate level, and neither did Damian. It was all lighthearted. Everyone knew that, everyone could see that, except them. To them, this suddenly became a pissing contest, a dispute, a challenge. One they never lost and didnât intend to lose.
âThe shipping of new furniture arrived this morning, Priestâ. The doubled voice resonated from your loverâs body, the tenor contrasting with the bass as both voices complimented each other with each word. âGo unpack itâŚnowâ.
âIsnât that Dominikâs j-â
âI said NOW!â The bass voice screamed, settling its dominance. Finnâs eyes began to shift colors. One remained blue as the other turned a fierce shade of orange-red.
âOk, Bossâ Damian set his hands up as a sign of submission. âChill outâ.
Before Damian could even blink, Finn stood in front of him. His face got so close to Damianâs that they almost seemed the same height.
âIf you ever dare to tell me to âchill outâ again, those will be your last words in this pitiful earth before you become hellhoundâs breakfast!â The demon left no room for debate. BĂĄlor learned how to tolerate humans after being in Finnâs body for over 40 years, that didnât mean he liked them or that he wouldnât kill one for fun. The only human BĂĄlor seemed to truly like was you, but that could easily change if his pride is on the line.
âBĂĄlor, he was just-â
âSilence!â He growled at you, voice bubbling with hatred, âIf you dare to speak one word to defend him, little girl, youâll know a side of me that youâll wish youâd never met!â His fiery gaze fixed on you as he pointed to Finnâs room. âGo and wait for us there, and donât make me repeat myself!â.
Reluctantly, you walked up the stairs, mouthing âIâm sorryâ to Damian as you reached the top.
If there was a god, you were praying to him now, silently begging him not to let BĂĄlor hurt Damian just because of a lighthearted teasing.
âHe doesnât listen to anyoneâs prayers, why would he listen to yours?â BĂĄlorâs voice rumbled in your ear, quickly making you turn around to face him at the foot of the bed.
âDo you think youâre that special, pet?â
Oh, he was mad.
At first, when you met him, BĂĄlor called you âpetâ, it was a deprecating term at the time, filled with disdain. But after a while, you became âlittle girlâ when he was in a good mood, âmy petâ when he was annoyed with you, and âpetâ when he was mad at you.
âAre you God's precious little thing? Thatâs why you think Heâll hear you, huh?â When only silence answered him, BĂĄlor growled loudly âAnswer me!â
âNo-â Your voice was cut off by the sudden pressure of Finnâs hand amplified by BĂĄlorâs strength around your neck.
âGood. Because HE wonât hear you! You belong to a demon and a human, the only god you should ever pray for is ME! Iâm the only one whoâll hear you, and when you do pray, make sure to keep your eyes down on the earth where I am, because Iâm not up in the sky, pet. Your help wonât come from up there, so stop searching in the clouds!â His hand abruptly left your neck, causing you to give two steps back due to the lack of force around your throat.
âKneelâ
Your brows furrowed at his statement, trying to understand the reason for that order.
âYou were praying, werenât you? Humans usually do that on their knees, no?! So go on, pet, kneel at your godâs feet and prayâ.
âBĂĄlor, please, let me-â
âI.said.kneel.and.prayâ
BĂĄlor pushed you down on the floor, making your knees hit the black hardwood floor with a thump. A small cry escaped your lips, your watery eyes looked up to stare at him, who had now taken full control of Finnâs body. His thick veins were black, red irises, canines sharp as razors, hair jet black, and nails tainted black at the edge.
You hoped to every sacred being that your next move wouldnât anger him even more, but you remember when Finn once told you âBĂĄlor is like an ice cube, cover him with some warmth and youâll watch him meltâ.
âCan I please touch you?â You asked with a meek voice, but he didnât answer. You took this as a silent green light and pressed your palms against his torso.
âI didnât mean to enrage you, my lord, Iâm deeply sorryâ. The correct word to use would be âupsetâ instead of âenrageâ, but BĂĄlor didnât deal with feelings and vulnerability well so you knew how to choose your words wisely by now.
âBut trust me when I say that there was no ill intention on my part nor from Damianâ You felt his abs harden at the mention of the name, the color of BĂĄlorâs eyes began to dance like the most aggressive fire and your hands soon began to travel up and down his stomach, using touch to soothe his raw emotions.
âYouâre the only one for me. You and Finn are the only men Iâll ever want, the only men Iâll ever need. I donât want anyone elseâ Your hands began to travel down his abs, reaching his v-line that you traced with your nails. âOnly you can satisfy me, only you can drive me insane with just a lookâ.
Your hands now stopped at his black jeans, one hand began massaging his crotch as the other caressed his lower belly - the most sensitive part of BĂĄlor. âOnly you can make me ache for you for days on end, only you know how to make me cum in mere seconds, only you can make me so hungry for your touch that I feel like Iâm about to lose my mind if I donât have youâ.
âI donât like when you respond to the flirtation of other men, petâ
âDamian flirts even with the walls, sir. He flirted with you, countless timesâ You tried to reason, feeling his cock begin to harden underneath the black jeans.
BĂĄlor let out a small huff as you continued âAm I lying though? You know he did, with both you and Finn. And I always laughed at it because I knew there was no ill intention behind it. In the same way, there was none between him and me. You know thatâ You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss on his clothed erection, âYouâre the only one for me, my kingâ.
âOn the bedâ BĂĄlor lowly hummed, cupping his hard cock with his palm.
You felt someone pushing you onto the bed from behind, panic covered your features until you saw who it was.
âYouâre gonna join us?â Your soft smile pressed against the bare skin of his abs. His hands gathered your hair, softly pulling your head down to rest on the mattress.
His hand pulled the zipper of your jacket down, humming in approval at the sight of your bare breast.
âCame prepared I seeâ Finn grinned, head leaning down to close his warm mouth around your nipple.
âMy good little petâ BĂĄlor spoke from your right, the bed dipped as he knelt on the mattress. His hand pressed your cheeks together, causing your lips to open in a partial pout. âLetâs see how much you can handle itâ He chuckled, grabbing you by the hair to quickly turn you around to lay on your stomach.
Your vision was blurred, your voice hoarse from so much screaming and cursing. Two became one, same body, same face, different details. One was sweet and sensual, the other was rough and raw. They were the perfect match, both drove you crazy in their way. The sun and the moon, night and day, dark and light, good and evil, residing within the same man, one born in hell, the other, heaven sent. Either way, you loved the duality, loved the experience, and most importantly, loved them.
âShit, shit, shitâ You whispered in a hurry as BĂĄlor rapidly moved behind you, his cock slipped in and out with such ease that made you wonder how long you could take this.
In the meantime, Finn watched you, his hand lazily stroking his cock beside you in bed, admiring every little frown, every gasp, every moan, every plea. Your eyes instantly closed when BĂĄlor hit your sweet spot, but they instantly reopened at the prickling feeling on your cheek.
âI didnât say you could stop looking at him!â BĂĄlor stated, landing another burning slap against your cheek, âDonât you dare close those beautiful eyes, my petâ.
Finn smirked, leaning forward, placing his flattened tongue against the burning skin of your cheek. He gave a few kitten licks until the skin lost its vibrant reddish color, âYou taste so goodâ, he licked again, only changing the route of his tongue.
Finn danced the tip of his tongue across your skin, traveling down your belly, stopping right above your mound. BĂĄlor grinned at the sight, pulling your leg to rest on his shoulder.
âOh my fucking godâ You moaned loudly, feeling the tip of Finnâs tongue circling your clit as BĂĄlorâs cock grew harder inside you. âIâm gonna die, I canât take itâ.
âOf course you can, loveâ Finnâs muffled voice echoed between your legs.
âNot only you can but you will, my precious petâ BĂĄlor snarled in your ear âBecause we wonât be done with you until the sun risesâ.
#finn bĂĄlor x reader#finn balor x reader#finn balor imagine#finn bĂĄlor imagine#the judgement day#the judgment day x reader#the judgement day image#fergal devitt#finn balor#finn bĂĄlor#masochist writes
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Fannon Steve Harrington is such a "you never asked so I never explicitly said (because I thought it was a known fact/obvious and I wasn't hiding it and I did mention it)" girlie and I appreciate it...
So here's some rambly angst.
The fall of 1984 was an absolute fucking nightmare for Steve. He had no friends, no girlfriend and no parents and the upside-down returned. To be fair, by simply choosing to be and stay with Nancy after last year was the main reason why most of his friendships by virtue of Steve pulling away. Nancy cheating on him and then leaving him for Byers crushed his soul and self-esteem but he should have seen it coming when he returned to school after missing a week to attend his parents funeral and she didn't acknowledge any of that, only focusing on the guilt eating at her from hiding Barbs death from her parents. It had crossed his mind to bring it up to Nancy what was going on in his life but... when they died in that accident it was all over the news and he had told her he was going to Italy to bury his parents.
His father Aidan Harrington, an Irish Hawkins born, was a famous international operatic tenor. It was during the production of La Traviata that his father met his mother Emilia and their romance and careers grew from there. They eventually got married and had their baby Stefano Harrington. So for the first few years of life he travelled with them to different productions until they eventually settled down into semi retirement until he turned 14.
It was Steve that pushed his parents to get back into opera once he entered high school. He was old enough to take care of himself and he had a phone so he could call every night. So when they died in a car accident on their way from the Opera house in Italy, Steve in that moment couldn't help but blame himself for their death. The crash was plastered over screens and the papers as the music community mourned heir loss and the funeral in Italy doubly so -now with his face attached. And for that week, he didn't cry
He had expected when he returned some acknowledgement of the event but, other than one band geek with the curly hair, that did not happen. So he did what he did best, ignore it and go to a party with Nancy on Halloween. Then everything with the upside down unfolded and there was no time.
By the time he returned from the hospital to his empty home, he broke down. He was now completely alone with no support system. Its probably why he reached out to Owens for a therapist. If it wasn't for Dr Kelly... Steve wasn't sure if he might have stayed around long enough to meet Robin and he certainly would not be around to save Eddie...
Which is how he ended up here.
In the hospital.
In a hospital bed and the rest of the party stuffed into the room.
El and her group had arrived at the hospital half an hour before and were exchanging stories from the past few days. Apparently, El was kidnapped, had regained her powers and was able to stop Vecna with the help of the guy with the amazing silky hair. Steve just watched them from the bed, trying not to move too much
"Xiomaro Argyle. But I prefer Argyle, dude" the man with the long silky hair introduced himself to Steve. somewhere in the background, Steve hears someone say, "his name is Xiomaro?"
"Stefano Harrington, but everyone calls me Steve," he replied. One of the kids echoed Stefano.
He hadn't expected Argyle's response. "Wait -like that opera couple my yaya always listens too? What were they called?"He paused as he racked his brain before snapping. "Adrian and Emilia, right? My grandma was crushed when they died in that car crash. She light's a candle for them every Dios de los Muertos. Sorry about that bro."
And at that, Steve's world froze, because this was the first person other than his parents to say those words to him. He quickly wiped the tear from his eye before the other's could see. He hadn't realised that the room had quieted.
"YOU'RE PARENTS ARE DEAD?" Dustin yelled.
Steve barely had the chance to speak when Nancy cut in, angry, for some reason.
"When did this happen and why didn't you say anything? Jesus H Christ, you're always hiding from your feelings like some macho idiot and you neve confront anything!"
Nancy had continued to berate him but Steve zoned out. Chest feeling tight with the boiling anger growing behind his sternum.
"I. did." He interrupted simply.
"No you didn't."
"I did because
You were still my fucking girlfriend at that time and it would be shitty of me not to tell you
I had to go to Italy to bury them at my mother's family cemetery according to their will. It would be wrong if I didn't tell my girlfriend I was going to be missing a week of school and why. Which I did the night I learnt about their death and I came by your house."
Nancy faltered a bit at that, losing some of her righteous fury, but she pressed on. "I would remember something like that, Steven"
"No you wouldn't. The same way you can't seem to remember that my name is Stephano and not Steven even though I told you that and it was all over my stuff home."
Her mouth clicked shut at that and an embarrassed blush covered her face. On a normal day, he would have stopped there and maybe vent to his therapist but he was still raw from the past few days and Nancy toying with his emotions only to forget about him once Johnathan came back.
"Okay, let's say I didn't tell you. My parents' death was everywhere including their funeral and you didn't see it although you always read the papers. I was not in the country for a week, which meant I was not at home for a week, and thus not in school for a week and you didn't notice that I your then-boyfriend just disappeared? You didn't think to question where I was, if you did notice, when I got back?"
There was no answer. He couldn't stop the bitter laugh from bubbling up
"Fuck. You really weren't paying attention to me? I just thought you were feeling guilty about barb and trying to fix things for her parents which is why you didn't say anything. Not just that I registered so low on your list of importance that my words just flowed into one ear and out the other."
He was getting worked up and his therapist would be disappointed that he didn't stop there. "And what about the rest of you? You saw my parents and just what? Assumed they abandoned me or something?"
The silence was now suffocating, and Steve could not stand their ashamed looks at each other.
"And none of you asked me any questions about it?
"You know what? Fuck you, Nancy! You're standing there on your pedestal, calling me a "macho idiot" that I'm hiding from my feelings as if I would have had anyone to talk to seeing that you and Johnathan avoided me once you started dating. Newsflash! That's why I have a fucking government therapist I see every Wednesday since 84!"
He let the last statement hang heavy in the air like the sword of Damocles over the group before deflating and flopping back In his hospital bed, emotionally spent. Eyes glued to the ceiling.
"Everyone, just... just leave."
He waited until he thought he heard everyone leave and looked back down, startled when he saw that Eddie was still in the room.
"Don't be too hard on the shitheads for too long. For all their collective intelligence they are still a pack of idiots too sure of themselves to not consider that surface-level Steve is all that exist."
Steve said nothing to that, already feeling shitty for blowing up on the kids, and a little less shitty about blowing up on Nancy.
"Anyway, you also seem to forget that I wished you condolences that week so maybe yoy should not be too hard on them."
At that, Steve focused on Eddie, wracking his brain and being confused with its results.
"You were a band kid?" Steve asked incredulously
Eddie lazily shrugged, "It was a phase. Now, seeing that it seems that you have it on your chest heavy enough that just hearing their names almost made you cry; tell me about your parents, Stevie."
In Steve's chest, he felt something... Flutter.
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This one got away from me, but this is all I have. This is slightly inspired by a post I saw from piratefishmama about Steve having good parents and everyone just assumed they were bad people even though they never asked him any questions (it's deleted; don't look for it). And don't ask me why they are opera singers my brain just latched onto that being their profession and why their death was everywhere.
#this is the moment Steve falls in love with Eddie#outside the room Johnathan is trying to get back into argyle's good graces because argyly isn't happy Johnathan was such a bad friend#Nancy is reassessing her relationship with Steve and is catatonic#Robin and the party are trying to figure out what to do to make it up to steve#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#just thoughts
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Participant Spotlight â Wiz!
Writer pinch hitter, Artist pinch hitter | Tumblr: @wizisbored | AO3: Wiz_is_bored
Wiz's dog is called William and he is an old man (twelve)
Why did you join the Nimona Big Bang?
I had only just watched the film for the first time when the original sign-ups were happening. I considered it, but ultimately decided that I wasn't invested enough in the fandom yet to commit. Fast-forward to my hundreth time watching it with my flatmate, at least one wip deep already (I don't remember if the cowboy au was around at the time), and I have an idea for another fic. We're a few weeks away from a uni deadline and my project isn't going anywhere good so I decide that I won't start the fic until after hand-in, and I won't even mention it on tumblr to avoid distracting myself. When I do eventually start I think hey, I've made it this far, let's see how long I can keep this to myself. So when I see the post asking for writer pinch-hitters, I've already got 600-800 words of a secret fic that I have a solid plan for, and that isn't going to be an ungodly length like most of my ideas. So, here I am.
Share something you like about the Nimona movie or comic.
This allegorical pink shapeshifter is the thing that made me fully understand why representation matters to people. I'd watched stuff with explicit, literal trans rep before and thought 'oh hey trans person' and 'oh hey trans thing I do that' but I never *felt* anything. I appreciated it more in a 'making trans stuff visible to other people' way than anything, but really it didn't mean all that much to me. But Nimona *resonates*. I don't care if it's not explicit or literal it made me *feel* something, for the first time. And I have theories as to why that is, but without going into all that I can only be thankful to the filmmakers who saw something there and ran with it. I still yell 'cis man behaviour' at Ballister on the train every time.
Favorite characters: Nimona (movie version), Nimona (comic version), the Director
Other fandoms: Beetlejuice the Musical
Other hobbies: I play irish tenor banjo and am working on transfering that skill to mandolin, collect horse brasses and country records from charity shops, and dabble in various arts and crafts.
Is there anything else that you'd like to share about yourself?
I study performance design at university with a personal focus on theatre puppetry, and have just started a project where I will be building a life-sized Nimona puppet. Unsure how much of that I'll be able to share online, but I'm excited.
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It was not always possible to take that war seriously. In the first place I could not understand why we, the French, and the English were fighting the Germans and the Austrians. Being in vaudeville all of my life had made me international-minded. I had met too many kindly German performersâsingers and acrobats and musiciansâto believe they could be as evil as they were being portrayed in our newspapers. Having known Germans, Japanese jugglers, Chinese magicians, Italian tenors, Swiss yodelers and bell-ringers, Irish, Jewish, and Dutch comedians, British dancers, and whirling dervishes from India, I believed people from everywhere in the world were about the same. Not as individuals, of course, but taken as a group.
- Buster Keaton, My Wonderful World of Slapstick - Page 98
#buster keaton#1920s hollywood#silent film#silent comedy#silent cinema#silent era#silent movies#pre code#pre code hollywood#pre code film#pre code era#pre code movies#damfino#damfinos#vintage hollywood#black and white#buster edit#old hollywood#slapstick#gifs#1918#1910s#wwi#wwii history#wwii era
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It's that time of year when you are going to see some "Irish" t-shirts in stores and can get your Shamrock Shake at Mickey D's. There will be St. Patrick's Day parades this weekend and next.
And I just want to be a nerdy know-it-all for a second. St Patrick's Day was originally a religious holiday (as most holidays were, holy + day = holiday); it still is in some places, like some actual Irish people from Ireland who believe in God--though the American parade/festival mentality seems to be gaining steam in some parts of Ireland, I am told.
St Patrick's Day as we know it is deeply rooted in the United States. Though it's been celebrated here since 1600 in the territory that became Florida, the tenor of the holiday greatly changed after the Great Famine of Ireland.
You may have been told in school that the famine occurred because a blight wiped out potato crops in Ireland. This is true but doesn't address the crux of the matter.
The blight started in North America and travelled to Ireland and into much of Europe. But we only think of it as an Irish problem because the Irish were too poor to eat other foods.
Some scholars have said it was a "man made crisis" and I agree that is true. Other crops in Ireland were not affected by the blight, in fact, this time was considered one of "plenty", but all that food was used to feed the English. Not the Irish.
Nor were the English quick on providing aid, "There is such a tendency to exaggeration and inaccuracy in Irish reports that delay in acting on them is always desirable," said Prime Minister Sir Robert Peel after initial reports of the catastrophe.
Workhouses designed to assist the poor and starving were closed prematurely. "The only way to prevent the people from becoming habitually dependent on Government is to bring the food depots to a close," said Charles Trevelyan, the man who was literally in charge of famine relief. He also said some gems like, Sure the famine is bad but "the moral evil of the selfish, perverse and turbulent character of the people" was the real problem. Great guy; he became a Baronet.
The soup kitchens, which replaced the workhouses were also closed prematurely, were widely believed to serve portions too small even for children and lacking any nutritional value due to them being watered down to feed more people than anticipated by the brilliant British government.
A million people died in Ireland from famine and disease and nearly 2 million left Ireland for other parts of the world. Including my father's family. (If they survived the "Coffin Ships" leaving their home.)
So when I said above that the tenor of the holiday changed, it was because of increasing Irish Nationalism and anger at Britain. Now, Ireland is a Republic (though it's not unified, yet) and we are proud of those who stayed and fought to make that happen.
We are also proud just to still be alive anywhere. The population of Ireland is 6.9 million now--slowly nearing the 8.5 million it was home to before the famine--but people with Irish ancestry across the world has been measured to be about 80 million people. Take that, Sir Robert Peel.
The English actively tried to kill us. Nevertheless, we persisted. A lot.
I hope you have a Happy St. Paddy's Day (it's Paddy not Patty). Drink some Guinness. Dance some jigs. Definitely eat some potatoes (Boil 'em! Mash 'em! Stick 'em in a stew!) But please remember that when people are starving, you should feed them. Don't be like the English government.
In fact, as I write this there is a crisis in Turkey and Syria. It just so happens that the Sultan of Turkey wanted to donate money to Ireland (10,000 pounds) but since Queen Victoria donated just 2,000, he was told it would be against protocol.
#st patricks day#saint patrick#ireland#irish american#the great famine#irish potato famine#st paddys day#turkey#turkey earthquake#syria earthquake#immigration#sir robert peel#england#queen victoria#Charles Trevelyan#republic of ireland#nothern ireland
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