My protest will stand until it becomes common practice for everybody, Italian or not, to walk around handing out Zeppole di San Giuseppe on March 19.Back in the salad days of Punk Rock, St. Pat's was a pretty sought after night for a good gig, it being the drinkin'est of holidays. This was compounded by the existence of a plethora of nouveau hardcore bands who aligned themselves with Irishness, a particularly Boston phenomenon. This usually involved bagpipes and kilts (aren't those Scottish?), fighting and of course, binge drinking.
Today I dug up one of my old poster portfolios and found one I did for a gig one of my bands had on St. Pat's about five years ago:
This was just after the Boston Celtics had stopped using this guy as their main logo. That night, I wore a t-shirt with an Italian flag on it that said "Italian Bad Boy. North End Boston", you know, just to be a punk. I tried to convince the guys to cover Angelina at the Pizzeria by Louie Prima with me singing, you know, just to be punks. They didn't go for it.
St. Patrick's parents were from Rome, anyway, which means that technically he's even more Italian than I am. Maybe we should all be eating green spaghetti or something for supper tonight.
