June 2013 Hooliganism–The Irish American News

June 2, 2013 by · Leave a Comment
Unfortunately he's having a good year.

Unfortunately he’s having a good year.

Hooliganism

By

Mike Houlihan

On special assignment for the Irish American News I recently visited the devil.

It was hard to nail him down for an interview, the guy is as slippery as an eel, an electric feckin’ eel!

I was ushered to his suite by a short German guy with a Hitler moustache. Hey wait a minute! That was Hitler!

As I followed Adolph down the hall, I mused to myself, “Wow, Hitler is the butler in hell. He deserves something worse than that. How bad could it be, being the butler in hell?”

Just then a large naked Jewish lady stepped out of the shadows and slapped Hitler in the face with a very wet used diaper she had been wearing.

Old Adolph just took it in stride, pushed back by the force of the gooey diaper, but then just wiped some mocha slime from above his moustache and said, “Thank you Mrs. Finkelstein!”

He smiled at me as he softly vomited into his mouth and put his hand on the knob to the devil’s door. “His Excellency will see you now.”

I sneered at Der Fuehrer, “I hope Mrs. Finkelstein does that to you a lot.”

He clicked his heels, “She does, every one hundred and ninety-six seconds…or so.”

As the door closed behind me, a double batch of Depends slammed into his kisser.

I looked about the sumptuous room with a spotless onyx desk with little beams of light occasionally blinking thru the cracks.  You could hear the soft murmur of sinners trapped inside that desk. The huge panoramic window looked out on the floor of the Chicago Mercantile Exchange. I wondered why Beelzebub had chosen this view and then I heard a dark voice behind me.

“Futures clients.”

Old Scratch picked up the remote and started clicking around the world via the window to Vegas, Kuala Lumpur, Amsterdam, and Chicago; scenes of avarice, lust, and homicide in all his favorite places.

“Have a drink, Houli. I’ve got some Irish Whiskey or some Guinness, whatever you like.”

I was apprehensive, I’ve been slipped a Mickey before and if anybody was gonna do it, it would be this sick creep.

I think I’ll just stick to this bottle of water I brought with me, if you don’t mind, Lucifer.

“Please, call me Lou.”

Let’s not get too chummy; I’m here for your story, not to go dancing with you.

“We’re very patient down here Houls, we want to make you a future client.”

I whipped out my reporter notebook; glad that I brought the water because it was starting to feel really warm down here.

Okay, I guess most of us already know how you got started in the evil business, and how St. Michael kicked your ass down here for eternity.

“Well, of course that’s exactly the narrative that the haters, racists and bigots want you to believe. I think the truth lies a bit further down the road.”

Yeah sure Lou, right down the ol’ Hershey highway.

“You’re boring me…so what’s this interview all about, what’s your angle? Who do you write for again?”

The Irish American News

He laughed as he drained his drink- Baby’s Blood on the rocks. “Oh we’ve got plenty of your Irish cousins down here, don’t you worry about that.”

He picked up the remote and on the screen was the village of Moneygall when the President visited the town of his Irish roots.

“You know how you love watching ‘The Quiet Man”, Houli? Well this is my Quiet Man.

Whaddya mean?

“Barak, Barry, my man, the best client I’ve got. Evil Inc. is booming, thanks to him. Millions of babies murdered, Benghazi, Dr. Kermit Gosnell, the IRS scandals, and spying on the AP reporters. He’s made evil cool again! This kid is the best thing that’s happened to me since Stalin.”

Yeah, maybe it’s time you slowed down, cuz right now it looks like the world is goin’ to hell.

“Well, duh! It’s only taken me two thousand years.”

Don’t count your chickens, Lou.

“Oh yeah? Watch me dismantle the Catholic Church over the next couple decades. And all it took was Obamacare and a couple dozen pedophile priests. Ireland is ready to legalize abortion, they are toast!”

I stood up, backtracked toward the door, and opened my water bottle; it was really getting hot down there.

“Come on Houls, it’s only your soul. I can have Lindsay Lohan here in five minutes!”

He picked up the remote and suddenly the picture got fuzzy and the sound went blippo screeching so loud the devil put his hands over his pointed ears.

What the hell is that?

“Damn, somebody is jamming my connection with prayers.”

Don’t you get it, devil boy. The tide is turning. The media is turning on your buddy Barry.  Even the mopes at MSNBC are having second thoughts, including moral zombies like Lawrence O’Donnell and Chris “The Tingler” Mathews.

I took a swig from my water bottle, flung open the door, and discovered Hitler over Mrs. Finkelstein’s knee as she spanked him. The devil was pissed now.

“You’re not going anywhere!”

I spit a mouthful of the water in his face.

“Ahhhh that’s holy water!”

That’s right Lou, adios sucker!

I leapt over Hitler and ran down the hallway and made it outta there just in time.  Something tells me it’s gonna be a very hot summer.

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Paul Ryan the Real Deal in Irish Ancestry Campaign

October 24, 2012 by · Leave a Comment

Paul Ryan the Real Deal in Irish Ancestry Campaign.
By Mike Houlihan
Special to The Irish American News

Most Irish Americans are skeptical of President Obama’s supposed discovery of his Irish roots. That pint of Guinness he was seen hoisting in Ireland last year was no doubt his first. The real reason he made the trip to the tiny village of Moneygall was a craven attempt to cozy up to the Irish American vote.

We’re also not buying Vice-President Joe Biden’s claims to be “Irish Catholic”. This chuckling buffoon is no more Catholic than Ian Paisley, but he still clings to the oxymoronic label of “pro-choice Catholic” like his pals Nancy Pelosi, Dick Durbin, and the late Teddy Kennedy. Actual Irish Catholics find an absurdity in the very idea of pro-choice Catholics. They may call themselves that, but the actual species does not exist. Ask the Pope.

The liberal media has done its best lately to malign the Irish Catholic credentials of Vice-Presidential candidate Paul Ryan. But according to Rick Barrett, retired DEA Agent and Chicago history detective, Ryan is the most Irish of the four candidates running, and his heritage and religion make him “the real deal”- an Irishman.

Barrett’s previous investigative research projects are celebrated in the Irish American community. His work is notable because of his discovery of Irish immigrants as historic figures and then championing these individuals as pioneers in law enforcement, including The Chicago Police Department’s Constable Jeremiah Sullivan, the first Irishman to become a policeman in America; Marie Connelly Owens, the first policewoman in the USA; and Constable James Quinn, the first Chicago Police Officer killed in the line of duty.

The son of legendary Chicago police Lieutenant “Junior” Barrett, of 48th & Wabash-Southside of Chicago fame, Rick Barrett has a history himself of conducting criminal investigations and evidentiary historical research that bloodhounds would envy.

Among Barrett’s discoveries is the heritage of VP Candidate Paul Ryan:

Ryan is fourth-generation Irish, with a paternal line going back to Ullard in County Kilkenny.

Ryan’s people were farmers. His great-great grandparents came from a small townland registered as Clohasty in the 1820’s, but now referred to as Cloghasty North. The townland itself was less than 110 acres.

James Ryan and Catherine Shea, Paul Ryan’s great-great grandparents, were married in the local Catholic parish of Graigeunamanagh.

Their first daughter, Ryan’s great-grand aunt, was born and baptized in the same parish in 1849, two years before the family emigrated.

So why is any of this important to the upcoming election? Because Irish Catholics tend to vote for their own. The best example of that is the late Chicago Mayor Richard J. Daley getting the vote out for a young man named Jack Kennedy in 1960 and winning him the election.

Ryan’s Irish roots could help determine how the battleground state of Ohio votes in the upcoming election.

Barrett says, “There are many Irish Catholics residing in the state of Ohio. In fact, there are so many Irish Catholics living there that, years ago, the University of Notre Dame, home of the ‘Fighting Irish’, made an agreement with the Ohio State University to never schedule a regular season football game between the two universities. Why would that be? Because neither Notre Dame nor OSU wanted to divide the state’s Irish Catholics—a game between these two universities would divide Ohio with some cheering for the Irish Catholic ND, thereby dividing Ohioans. Two of Paul Ryan’s brothers, Stan and Tobin, graduated from Notre Dame while Paul chose to attend Miami University in Ohio.”

Paul Ryan’s Irish Catholic bona fides, as a Pro-Life candidate and with ancestors going back to Graiguenamanagh in County Kilkenny, could potentially sway Irish Catholic voters in Ohio to “stick with their own”, and very well swing the election to give the Republicans the victory on November 6th.

And that night in Boston might be when Paul Ryan stands before the cheering crowds of Irish Catholics and tells them, “There are only two kinds of people in this world ‘Irish and I-Wish”!

Mike Houlihan is a former Chicago Sun-Times Features Columnist, has been an Irish American News Columnist since 1996, and is the co-host of Chicago’s “Skinny & Houli Irish Hour” on the radio. More info at www.mikehoulihan.com

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October 2012 Hooliganism

October 1, 2012 by · Leave a Comment

Hooliganism
By
Mike Houlihan

Hugh Hoyle returned to his car after leaving the Old St. Pat’s party. He’d had several beers and was worried his wife, Caitlin Corrigan Hoyle, would be bitching about his behavior. She was having a party for her friends from Planned Parenthood that night and told Hugh to be home by nine, “at the latest!”

Hugh was just crossing the 90/94 overpass when he came upon an older black guy leaning on the railing, playing the Flintstones theme on his sax.

Hugh slowed to sing along with the music:
You’ll have a yabba dabba doo-time
A dabba doo time
You’ll have a gay old time!

Hugh was loaded and started laughing and applauding the street guy’s performance.

Black guy eyeballed Hoyle, “Watch you say about being gay, Jack?”

Embarrassed, Hugh took out his wallet, “Oh no no no, those are just the actual lyrics to the song. I’m….well…I’m cool dude. Can you change a twenty?”

What you say, Mr. Notre Dame jacket? Twenty is my minimum, you racist preppie.

“Oh no I’m not racist… I voted for Obama. I’m Hugh Hoyle, what’s your name?”

Dr. Leroy Coleman.

“Hi, Dr. Coleman. You can keep the twenty.”

You voted for Obama? Man, you are one cool white man.

“Thank you.”

Now you gotta give me a lot more than twenty, you racist bastard.

Hugh was getting irritated with this guy and puffed out his chest, “I just told you ‘I’m not a racist, I voted for Obama.’

Gimme more, then you won’t be a racist. Ain’t that what Obama be saying all the time? ‘You gotta spread it around, Jack!’ So cough.’

Hugh started backing up slowly, “It’s okay, I’m cool with that. What’s your beef with Obama?”

I’m a doctor. That Obamacare is bulls—!

“What hospital do you work out of Doctor?”

The hospital of shut the f— up, motherf——.

Hugh plunged his hand into his wallet to offer more.
Dr. Leroy Coleman snatched the dough from Hugh’s hand, picking up the coins in his case and packing up his saxophone.

Hugh was angry now and having buyers remorse over his donation. He stuck out his chin, “Hey man, relax with the racist stuff. I told you, I’m cool, I’m hip to what you’re saying, spread it around, yeah I’m down with that, just like Obama.”

You think votin’ for Obama bought your certificate of racial absolution, dude?

“I’m on your side, it’s okay. I’m going to vote for him again.”

Dr. Coleman’s eyes flashed crazily beneath the brim of his fedora. “You what?”

Hugh staggered back warily. He looked over his shoulder for any other people from the fest while sizing up the doctor. Maybe he should just run. Maybe he has a weapon, he’s not really that big, Hugh had at least fifty pounds on the skinny old black guy with the straw hat on his head, swinging his saxophone case back and forth in his hand until it HIT HUGH IN THE FACE.

Hugh went down, his heart beating like mad, as blood spurted from a cut opened over his eye.

Dr. Leroy Coleman went into a trance, stood over him seething, “You racist piece ‘a crap. You the reason we in this mess. What you know about Obama? A light-skinned Kenyan, socialist, Marxist, Jew hatin’, baby-killing, economic terrorist systematically bankrupting our country to reduce us to a third world power as we continue to shovel our scratch into the Islamic Brotherhood? Obama takin’ your church, your schools, your hospitals. Don’t you see evil? Catholic boy? You stupid honky, whatchoo about to do? Can’t you see what’s goin’ down here? Don’t you know Obama wasn’t even born here? He was born on the planet Uranus and his father was actually Osama Bin Laden. What you know about that, Hugh Hoyle? Obama killed his father just like Luke Skywalker had to bump off Darth Vader. Obama is the anti-Christ, dude, and you are going to vote for him ‘cuz he black? Gimme all your money, you racist!”

Hugh cowered on the bridge and handed over his wallet. Dr. Coleman whipped it open and took the rest, another couple hundred bucks, and then flipped Hugh’s wallet over the side onto the Dan Ryan as he walked into the darkness.

The lights of a van came squealing up the ramp and swiftly knocked Dr. Coleman about twenty feet across the street, where he lay stock-still.

Hugh called 911 on his cell phone as he ran to the motionless body of the Doctor. He looked down at him; a look of peace upon his face, his head just slightly bloodied, the sax case had never left his hand and lay by his side.

Hugh could hear the sirens in the distance and the voices of other bystanders and the driver exclaiming, “He walked right in front of me!”

A young woman turned to Hugh, “Who was he?”

Hugh looked at the face of the old black man and thought about what Dr. Coleman had said. He was crazy, that’s pretty obvious…. or was he… a messenger…an angel… a voice of one, crying in the wilderness, to warn him?

You decide. On November 6th.

-30-

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