Mrs Morrison's Hotel

The 100% personal official blog for Patricia Kennealy Morrison, author, Celtic priestess, retired rock critic, wife of Jim

My Photo
Location: New York, New York, United States

I was, wait, sorry, that's "David Copperfield". Anyway, I was born in Brooklyn, grew up on Long Island, went to school in upstate NY and came straight back to Manhattan to live. Never lived anywhere else. Never wanted to. Got a job as a rock journalist, in the course of which I met and married a rock star (yeah, yeah, conflict of interest, who cares). Became a priestess in a Celtic Pagan tradition, and (based on sheer longevity) one of the most senior Witches around. Began writing my Keltiad series. Wrote a memoir of my time with my beloved consort (Strange Days: My Life With and Without Jim Morrison). See Favorite Books below for a big announcement...The Rennie Stride Mysteries. "There is no trick or cunning, no art or recipe, by which you can have in your writing that which you do not possess in yourself." ---Walt Whitman (Also @ and

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

A Black Day For Ireland

...was the day the slave Sucellos, later to be called Patrick, showed up on its shores.

I have no patience with the green-haired, green-beered, shamrockery-spouting "Sure and begorrah" morons who have co-opted this day, so don't anybody be wishing me a Happy St. Paddy's Day or the road rising to meet me or any other faux-Irish-accented claptrap.

I hate Patrick. And all his works and all his pomps. HATE HIM. He was a tool of the pope and the author of pretty much all the manifold wrongs that have befallen Ireland since his day. (I'm not named for him, btw. I consider myself named for my great-great-grandfather. So there.)

Patrick ushered in the cultural imperialism and militaristic occupation of England, pope-endorsed, that has fucked Ireland up almost beyond repair for the past 800 or so years.

Patrick decimated and stigmatized all the lovely indigenous Irish traditions and religious practices that had prevailed since the Celts first arrived there. He did this by cynically Christianizing them, and many of the Irish, wishful to please and little caring if they had yet another name for the Goddess, caved. To their disgrace.

I wrote a whole book about this. "The Deer's Cry". And I'm STILL pissed off.

So on March 17, I celebrate rather Pan-Celtic Day. I wear Morrison tartan, and Celtic/Keltic jewelry, and I stay miles away from the vomitous, and vomiting, hordes of Irish-for-a-Day amateurs that infest Manhattan every year on this day.

That's all.

Oh, and since the "snakes" he allegedly drove out were really Pagans, possessors of the Serpent Wisdom, let us lift our voices in a mighty shout: Bring back those snakes!


Post a Comment

<< Home