Diacetylmorphine Detritus and Day Drunks

Today was a lovely day. A beautiful foreshadowing of spring. And so my neighborhood is overrun with inebriated college students dressed in Kelly green, shamrocks, and assorted other paraphernalia associated with the supposedly Irish-American bacchanalia we know as St. Patrick's Day. A fair number of them are decked out in an assortment of beaded necklaces too. You might say to yourself, "What do beads have to do with St. Patrick's day? Beads are a Mardi Gras thing!" And you would be right to do so. Mardi Gras was days ago. Fat Tuesday's offerings of vomit have long since dried into patches of pink and yellow concrete polka-dotting the sidewalks. However, today isn't St. Patrick's day either. That's not until next week. Perhaps our youth are splitting the difference and having something of a drunken, second-rate holiday mashup. I can only guess. It's hard to understand them. They're very drunk and shouty.

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