Mike Houlihan

On Wednesday January 25, 2012, Irish American News columnist Mike Houlihan will hold court at Peggy Kinnane’s Irish Restaurant & Pub, to tell some stories, sign, and sell his book “Hooliganism”. The fun begins at 7PM and Houlihan will tell some preposterous stories from his celebrated book and hold court at this legendary Irish pub till 9PM.

Mike Houlihan is a former features columnist for The Chicago Sun-Times, co-host of the immensely popular Irish radio program, “The Skinny & Houli Show”, and a filmmaker whose work has been broadcast on WTTW and at film festivals all over the country. He has written his humor column, “Hooliganism”, for the Irish American News since 1996.

Mike is offering all Peggy Kinnane’s patrons a 60% discount on the price of his book that night!

Stop into Peggy Kinnane’s for some Hooliganism and kick off your St. Patrick’s Day shenanigans early.

Peggy Kinnane’s is located at 8 N. Vail Avenue in Arlington Heights. For more information. Call 847-577-7733.

Hope to see you at Peggy Kinnane’s for a pre-emptive strike of Paddy’s Day and a Hooley with Houli.

Hooliganism
By
Mike Houlihan

I received some hate mail a few weeks ago in response to last month’s column.

It was sent from a fella going by the name of “Tom”. He started his fan letter by stating, “After reading your incredibly bizarre piece in the IAN newspaper I have to wonder if you’ve truly lost your mind…”

My immediate response was to reply, “Yes I have lost my mind, now please, please, please stop bullying me!” But I decided that “discretion is the better part of valor” and digested Tom’s diatribe and his outrage at my Swiftian satire. I reminded myself what I’ve told my editor and publisher, Cliff Carlson, on more than one occasion, “If I’m not pissing Somebody off, I’m not doing it right!”

I got the sense from “Tom” that he wanted to draw me into a debate of some kind about my words and who I had skewered in my column. I replied to the hate mail with these words,
“Tom who?”

Not five minutes later Tom wrote back, “It doesn’t really matter who I am. It is only the truth that matters.”

Well “Tom”, maybe your mommy never told you this, but it does matter who you are because if you don’t have the courage to put your name on something you’ve sent, it’s a safe bet there is no truth in anything you say.

I can only assume you are just another in the long line of bicycle seat sniffers I’ve encountered throughout my career who don’t enjoy my sense of humor, AKA “Houli-haters”. That’s fine Tommy, but please don’t expect to engage me in a discussion with you or any other delegates from NAMBLA.

I do appreciate the fact that gerbils like you actually read “Hooliganism”, but seriously Tom, you aren’t my type. So feck off and let me enjoy the folks who love me, the real people who have real names.

Folks like Anne Marie Grogan, who I met again after over 62 years, at IBAM at the Irish American Heritage Center last fall. Anne was a friend of our family when we lived on Estes Avenue in St. Margaret Mary’s parish and did a lot of babysitting at the Houlihan house. She told me of the night my older brothers hid the baby, me, in the empty bathtub behind the shower curtain to drive poor Anne almost crazy.

Anne Marie recently sent me a Christmas card and letter with some old news clips of yours truly. She also sent a spiritual bouquet for my family with the gift of two Christmas novenas for our intentions. I was touched by her generosity of spirit.

The card was signed, Anne Marie Grogan.

Or folks like my friends the Barrett sisters: Suzanne, Nancy, and Mary. Suzanne runs “Barrett Office Suites and Services” in the Loop and I’m renting a very cool office there during the holidays and the kindness of the sisters is contagious. They sign their names to thank you notes all the time Tom.

Or my lovely grand daughter Charlotte, the coolest person in the world. Charlotte is two years old and has grown very attached to a statue of St. Joseph we keep in our home. Charlotte could very well grow up to be a Chicago cop because the other day she dropped the statue and chipped Joe’s nose and my wife was distraught, “What happened to St. Joseph?” she cried.

Charlotte looked grandma dead in the eye and said, “He tripped.”

I have a feeling Tom, that a person like you, too spineless to reveal his identity, lacks the faith of Anne Marie Grogan, the charity of The Barretts, or the hope of Charlotte Houlihan.

I’ve just started an occasional blog at www.mikehoulihan.com and encourage all you “real people” to check it out whenever you’re in the mood for some “Hooliganism”.

Houli-phobes like “Tom”, please, let’s not waste each other’s time. For the rest, Happy New Year to all!

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Here’s my December column. Please send all hate mail to 1-800-FECK-OFF!

Hooliganism
By
Mike Houlihan

Malachy Swift was not a bit modest about being a dog lover. He loved his Irish Setter Finoola.

Malachy was so in love with Finoola that he wanted to marry her. After all, Malachy and Finoola had been cohabitating for almost a decade and that alone was evidence of the integrity of their union. They’d been together even longer in dog years.

Actually it was dog years that gave their romance that May-December quality. Malachy was only in his late twenties and had met Finoola when she was a pup and he was just graduating from high school. So she was quite a bit older than Malachy.

Malachy had invented a computer application during college and made a fortune on the Internet matching up dates for the LGBT crowd on his website, “Sockets & Wenches”. He’d dabbled in the gay lifestyle himself but soon grew weary of the endless merry go round. Malachy was curious about inter-species affection.

One night while combing out Finoola’s shiny red coat after an Elton John concert at The United Center they took their relationship a step further. He put on a Johnny Mathis record of Christmas songs and poured a half bottle of Pinot Grigio into Finoola’s bowl.

Before you knew it they were both head over paws in love. Malachy proposed the next night over some milk bones and liver as he placed a diamond collar around Finoola’s neck and popped the question. It was a modest proposal. She said “Woof!” which Malachy took as a yes.

The nuptials were delayed a bit when they wouldn’t grant them a marriage license at the County Clerk’s Office. Malachy was not the type of guy to wait though and he immediately made a phone call to his old friend the Governor.

The Governor sensed an opportunity and insisted that Malachy come for dinner at the Mansion the following night. Malachy had donated quite a bit of dough to the Gov’s campaign because he believed in his agenda of raising taxes and increased abortions.

After a sumptuous dinner, the two men sat smoking cigars and sipping brandy in front of the fire as Malachy made his pitch.

“This is very, very, very important to me Governor. And to all of us who crave inter species marriage.”

Are you looking for marriage to all animals or just dogs?

“Well in my case it should be just Irish setters and I know you’d be on board with that because we’re both Irish.”

Irish Catholics!

“Exactomondo! I suppose we should include all dogs and most farm animals as well.”

But Malachy, let’s please exclude pigs so we don’t piss off any Muslims.

“By the way, Governor, I must ask you. What was that delicious dish we had for an appetizer tonight? I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything so succulent or sweet.”

I thought you’d enjoy those Malachy. Those are baby fingers and toes. Planned Parenthood sends them over by the truckload. I got the recipe from the White House chef at the Inauguration Ball. You can only use first trimester babies because those are the most tender.

“Well they are just scrumptious.“

The Governor clinked his glass with Malachy and the two agreed that the next day legislation would be introduced to legalize inter-species marriage throughout the state.

Malachy thanked the Governor and made out a $500,000 check, on behalf of his organization Privacy PAC, to the Committee to re-elect the Governor. Privacy PAC is committed to electing legislators who support animal husbandry.

The two shook hands and Malachy said, “I’d like to get married in church, but I have a feeling that might be a problem.”

Not if you go to my priest, Father Larry, over in Oak Park.

“Oh, did he officiate at your marriage?”

Uh, no Malachy, actually I’m …divorced.

“Was she a bitch?”

Well, she wasn’t an Irish Setter.
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Here’s my November column from IAN. Hope to see you all at O’Donovan’s on Wed. night. See below for details.
Merry Christmas

Hooliganism
By
Mike Houlihan

Can God be tricked?

Of course not you say, God is the epitome of wisdom and would never fall for anything, especially any goofy scheme dreamed up by the likes of me.

So it would be foolish to assume that God could be flattered or conned into doing anything. But love, well that’s a different story.

I know God loves me and will answer my prayers. He certainly has before, lots of times, a series of miracles over the years. In fact just about anything I ever really, really wanted I prayed for and got. And He keeps telling me “Ask and you shall receive, knock and the door shall be opened”

So here’s my trick. I constantly thank him in advance for helping me whenever I ask. It’s not a con because I know He will come through for me…eventually. So as we hit Thanksgiving this month why not try to thank the Lord for all the gifts He has given us, but also the blessings He will bestow in the future.

Maybe try thanking God every day for winning Lotto. Finally your numbers come in and you drop dead of a heart attack as you are overcome with joy. Well, you didn’t pray for that…or did you? Certainly the gift will help your family pay for your funeral and you can go to Heaven knowing that your prayers have been answered and your kids and grandchildren will drive fancy cars and never have to work another day in their lives. I’ll take that any day Lord.

The key to getting the big prayers answered is to make sure you give thanks for the little ones. Like that parking space that just popped up out of nowhere or the twenty-dollar bill you find on the floor of the ladies room. Or the fact that Oprah has stopped doing her show. Thank you Jesus!

I have lots to be thankful for this Thanksgiving. I sold my house last year and got a pretty good price for it. In this economy, that’s a miracle. I spent over a year praying for that one.

My grand daughter Charlotte is now two years old, thanks be to God.

I moved south to become the Baron of Berwyn and started attending St. Odilo Catholic Church. Turns out St. Odilo is the only parish in the United States dedicated to the Souls in Purgatory and every time I set foot in the church it’s worth a special indulgence of 200 days. It’s like going to the bank for me, since my wife tells me that the average stay in purgatory is 40 years and she implies that I will be doing even harder time. But at the rate I’m going at St. Odilo’s with the indulgences, I’ll be out in a couple years max. Hey I can do that standing on my head.

Actually standing on your head is what they make the Protestants do in purgatory. Or so I’ve heard.

I’m also thankful for the pastor at St. Odilo, Father Tony Brankin. He was at St. Thomas More for years on the south side before coming to Berwyn. This guy is terrific, an old school preacher. He’s not afraid to call out the phony Catholic politicians in our state who promote abortion and “marriage” for gaysters. And he blasts away at these fakers right from the pulpit.

And let me tell ya, after a week of the likes of Anderson Cooper and Rachel Maddow talking about “their” version of the world, it’s damn refreshing to hear Tony Brankin tell it like it is as he calls out their ilk as “pod people” and “moral zombies!”

I’m also thankful for The Skinny & Houli Show sponsors, Our Irish Cousins donors, Social Security, my family, and Herman “The Herminator” Cain.

Those are all answered prayers. And what about the future goodies I’m giving thanks for this Thanksgiving? Well, that’s between The Lord and me.

After all, a magician never reveals his greatest trick. But I’ve definitely got something up my sleeve. Happy Thanksgiving everybody!

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Still waiting for IAN to post some old columns. Here they are for your enjoyment. Hope to see you all at O’Donovan’s on Wed. night, see below for details. Merry Christmas!

Hooliganism
By
Mike Houlihan

A good story never really ends. Maybe you’ve heard a few from me before, but like the story of our lives, it continues to unravel in directions we never imagined.

Back in the early eighties I was living in Hell’s Kitchen in New York City. I’d only been married a few years and my twins were still in diapers. I was a young actor-producer then, continually on the hustle. I lived in subsidized housing and around the corner from my apartment was a row of Off-Off Broadway theatres where I wheeled and dealed my bag of tricks. I was romantically broke in those days, “a dweller on the threshold.”

Across the street was the Blarney Rock pub, just fifty yards west of Holy Cross Catholic church. My search for spirituality ping-ponged between those two institutions; mass in the morning and halcyon nights and earlier mornings at the Blarney Rock.

My shaman at the bar was Mike Monaghan, a lad from the old country who’d just gotten married himself. Mike the bartender was from Galway and his wife Cindy waited tables at the Rock.

Blarney Rock was a beacon of bonhomie late at night after trodding the boards of 42nd Street. It was cheap, close to home, and they served food as well as booze. They had steam tables and the guy with the paper hat would carve up sandwiches or whatever you wanted: mostly meat ‘n potatoes dishes.

And then there was the lad from Galway, skinny then with big ol’ glasses. “How are ye Mike?” he’d say through a wise guy grin as he put my glass on the bar.

The joint was usually empty by midnight and I’d find myself sitting in the corner of the bar as it stretched out fifty feet to the door, with a window onto 42nd Street. Mike and I would watch the transvestite hookers out the window as they assaulted drunk frat boys from Jersey. Magic Johnson with boobs and high heels smacking the mopes, as they would leap from the car, “She took my wallet!”

Mike Monaghan would stand at the door and shout, “HE took your wallet, ya amadon!”

Mike drank Hennessy then, a gentlemen’s drink that could kick your ass. Just like Mike. Many a night I would sit at that bar and listen to Mike tell me stories of Ireland. The Quiet Man was our favorite movie. I’d tell Mike of my show business schemes, and he’d offer advice. We even pooled some dough to put on a show with a couple of phony brothers from Limerick. They turned out to be scoundrels though, “the Irish are a treacherous race.”

When the Hennessy was cooking, Monaghan would put his foot against the beer cooler behind the bar and lean back against the bottle rack with a very serious look about him. His brogue would lilt, “Didja ever hear the story of Children of Lir, Osin of Tir na Nog, Cuchillin, Finn Mac Cool, and the Salmon of Wisdom? These stories are well tested thru the centuries.”

I’d have him fill my glass and then relax while Mike Monaghan painted the pictures of Irish mythology. We’d sit there til two am, sometimes three, and finally Mike would take my glass and say, “All right now get the fook out of here!”

And I’d go home. I finally did get the fook out of New York in ’85. Twenty-six years ago.

Then in November of 2006 I got an email from my old pal Mike Monaghan. “I’m still alive, just about. I’m back in Ireland since ’86. Still married to Cindy. Make contact if you want me to expand further.”

My old pal Mike Monaghan. Well I wrote back immediately and within a half hour of back and forth blarney we were on the phone talking. It was later at night for Mike, so he was pretty talkative.

We caught up on our families, both proud to be married to the same women. These days, that’s a feat. When Mary was pregnant with our twins in New York she wore her grandmother’s big old camel hair coat. It was warm and roomy and sat in our closet til Cindy was preggers with her own twins and we handed it off to her. I told Mike I would have to come to Galway and get that coat back.

Mike wrote me, “When you come to Ireland, we will take care of everything. You can stay with us in Headford, a little village 16 miles north of Galway. Cindy will not be here, she will be in the Sahara on a camel coat-knitting course. We’ll have great Craic, when you come over to Galway.”

And we did indeed. Mike told me on the phone, “When you come to Ireland, I’ll be your Barry Fitzgerald.” It was as close to being Sean Thornton as I was ever going to get. It was March of ’09 and both sets of twins were now grown men and we could all drink together!

As we sat in Mike’s living room after a dinner of Irish stew, Mike popped The Quiet Man into his VCR and we quoted the lines as we celebrated the reunion of a couple of “Irish cousins”.

That reunion is one of the highlights of the documentary film I’ve been working on for the last three years, “Our Irish Cousins”. The Monaghans of Headford are featured in the film as well as many of you who came to signings of my book, “Hooliganism” in Chicago and on the road at some of the Irish Festivals of 2008 and 2009.

The film should be finished early next year, but in the meantime you can meet Mike Monaghan and some of the friends we made on our journey when you visit http://ouririshcousins, and watch the trailer.

“Our Irish Cousins” must be a pretty good story, because this isn’t the end of it.
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On Wednesday December 21st, Irish American News columnist Mike Houlihan will hold court at O’Donovan’s Bar on West Irving Park Road to tell some stories, sign, and sell his book “Hooliganism”. The fun begins at 6PM and Houlihan will tell some Christmas stories from his book as well.

Mike Houlihan is a former features columnist for The Chicago Sun-Times, co-host of the immensely popular Irish radio program, “The Skinny & Houli Show”, and a filmmaker whose work has been broadcast on WTTW and at film festivals all over the country. He has written his humor column, “Hooliganism”, for the Irish American News since 1996.

Stop into O’Donovan’s for some Hooliganism and finish your Christmas shopping with Houli while having a few beers and dinner. They’re having their half-price meat loaf dinner special that night for only $6.95 and all you can eat meatloaf for $10.95.

Known as Schulien’s for 100 years, O’Donovan’s is one of the oldest bars in Chicago. Enjoy everyone’s favorite comfort food, daily food & drink specials, a giant beer garden & sidewalk cafe, HDTV’s everywhere plus private party rooms for every type of event! O’Donovan’s still has the MAGIC!

O’Donovan’s is located at 2100 West Irving Park Road in Chicago. Call 773-478-2100 for more information.

Hope to see you at O’Donovan’s for some holiday cheer with Houli.

I’ll be doing some shtick to promote and SELL my book “Hooliganism” on Saturday night at Mollie’s Public House in Riverside. Mollie’s is owned by my friend Brian Carroll and is a very very cozy ‘lil Irish pub. You will have fun, laughs, drinks, and an absolutely fabulous time. If not, there is something wrong with you!
Here’s the press release.
On Saturday November 19th, Irish American News columnist Mike Houlihan will hold court at Mollie’s Public House in Riverside to tell some stories, sign, and sell his book “Hooliganism”. The fun begins at 7PM and Houlihan will joined by Chicago Jazz Magazine and AOL Patch cartoonist Charley Krebs with an exhibit of his work. Charley’s award-winning cartoons appeared for decades in the Suburban LIFE Newspapers. Leading off the night’s musical presentation will be guitarist and songwriter Paul Halvey.

Mike Houlihan is a former features columnist for The Chicago Sun-Times, co-host of the immensely popular Irish radio program, “The Skinny & Houli Show”, and a filmmaker whose work has been broadcast on WTTW and at film festivals all over the country. He has written his humor column, “Hooliganism”, for the Irish American News since 1996.

Stop into Mollie’s for some Saturday night fun at 31 Forest Ave., in Riverside, IL. (708-447-2233) Mollie’s is a very cozy Irish pub with Guinness on tap as well as several other favorites. They also serve food.

Hope to see you there!

“Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable-if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-think about such things.”
That pretty much sums up what I’m going to aspire to with this blog. I know I won’t always hit that mark and I know I’ll sometimes vent, and kvetch, and blast some people, ideas, and lifestyles, but I’m hoping to keep this positive and hopefully entertaining for myself as well as you, my audience. If I veer from that initial quote, feel free to comment or remind me that I have gone blippo. I’ve been communicating through a variety of mediums in the last 62 years in person, onstage, in print, film, television, and radio, so please indulge me as I launch my pinkie into the world wide web. Thanks!!