Someone posted this on Facebook this morning and I have to admit, it's gotten my morning off to a hilarious start. Michael D. Higgins, President of Ireland, is a delightful speaker who is not afraid to call a Tea Partier a wanker. I admire the Irish president's spunk and want to circulate some currency in his marvelous country.
Seriously, Bill and I are considering taking another military hop next month, if we can manage it. Last night, I asked friends if we should aim for France or Ireland. Most everyone said Ireland. We need to go there anyway, since Bill is of Irish descent. I've been wanting to go for years. And we could fly to Wichita and try to hitch a ride to Mildenhall AFB, which is a base in Britain. My dad retired out of there, so it would be fun to go back and see it again. Haven't been there since 1978.
Then we could take a train to the Welsh coast and catch a ferry to Dublin. We could wander around the Republic, where I can kill some brain cells tasting beer, poitin, and whiskey. I will skip the Blarney Stone because I've heard people piss on it.
Of course, this is still very theoretical, but I'd like to do it. I finished Carol Burnett's book last night and started another one she wrote about her eldest daughter, Carrie Hamilton, who died of cancer in 2002. I suspect a review will be forthcoming soon.
For now, I shall clean the loo and write a Pop Rock Nation article.