Oddly, I think this probably had something to do with tolerance...

The significant other told me once that her immigrant mother got enraged at her and her younger sister for listening to the Pogues because that was short for Pogue Mahone, Irish for Kiss My Ass. Ah, tolerance. Now, Ireland has banned blasphemy, and the Irish Atheists are opposed to it. And, this is why I get irritated.

I seem to recall that the Jews originally wanted Jesus executed for blasphemy. Now, while Ireland is kinda, sorta struggling out of its priest-driven ways in the light of a continuing stream of sexual scandals and abuse, what the hell is this all about. The statute in the Irish constitution forbidding blasphemy had  been there since Eamon De Valera and gang wrote the bloody thing -- it was impossible to enforce. Known, as we are as a people, for our love of people of other faiths, cultures and ways of thinking, I suspect Dev was considering how well things were going in the north and how well they had gone with Michael Collins and the boys of the IRA. De Valera was an American by birth, and both Irish and Spanish by descent. He was a very smart guy. If Ireland was ever to have a 32 county Republic, the burning of heretics and religious riots would probably not influence the commonwealth, the Orange Order or anyone else as a good thing. The Pope was not going to be a real help in the re-unification; and, there was plenty for a religious despot to love, I'm sure. So, in the constitution it goes.

Well, more than 70 years later, Eire has modernized. Splendidly well...the new law makes a simple "Jesus Motherfucking Christ that hurt!" worth a fine of up to $35K in that odd Euro currency they use these days. All religions are equally protected...except atheism. In 1937, there were Irish atheists, just as I'm sure there were Irish sheep fuckers. Both stayed quiet about their activities. Today, the Celtic Tiger thing brought scientists, rationalists, computer programmers and people who were fleeing the impact of religion to Dublin and Cork and Dun Laoerhiare and every other damn place.

Well, I love Ireland. The reason we don't run the world is that our totalitarian impulses are countered by a basic anarchy and personal tolerance for those we know. The priests, nuns, ministers and fanatics among the Irish aside, I suspect that this is going to be settled over a few pints and debated in pubs and such places for decades. The Irish Atheists will hold parades and virtual protests; there will probably be parades. The Orange Order will do something to indicate that Ian Paisley, senile goat fucker that he is, is opposed on principle to the idea that Presbyterians can't curse the Pope, which will set the peace process back. Maybe there will be a hunger strike or two amongst those who claim their rights to blaspheme guaranteed under the European Union and the United Nations have been infringed. Benny the Rat will issue something or another -- he can't leave it to his bishops in Ireland, since somehow they're all implicated and resigning.

So, it's funny. Except this -- tolerance is not enforced by laws restricting speech. While no friend to tolerance, the Irish or freedom in general(except from Catholicism and fun), I think this is a time to polish up the Oliver Cromwell quote oft cited here..."I beseech thee, by the bowels of the Lord Jesus Christ, to consider that you may be wrong!"
That would, of course, be the tolerant, non-blasphemous thing to do, and I, of course, have faith that mankind will do so, beginning in Ireland. Sure I do...for it's six miles from Dangle to Donegalday...

I'm going to let Joni's words do for summation and anticlimax...

I was an unmarried girl
I'd just turned twenty-seven
When they sent me to the sisters
For the way men looked at me.
Branded as a jezebel,
I knew I was not bound for Heaven
I'd be cast in shame
Into the Magdalene laundries.

Most girls come here pregnant
Some by their own fathers.
Bridget got that belly
By her parish priest.
We're trying to get things white as snow,
All of us woe-begotten daughters,
In the steaming stains
Of the Magdalene laundries.

Prostitutes and destitutes
And temptresses like me—
Fallen women—
Sentenced into dreamless drudgery—
Why do they call this heartless place
Our Lady of Charity?
Oh, charity!

These bloodless brides of Jesus,
If they had just once glimpsed their groom,
Then they'd know, and they'd drop the stones
Concealed behind their rosaries.
They wilt the grass they walk upon,
They leech the light out of a room,
They'd like to drive us down the drain
At the Magdalene laundries.

Peg O'Connell died today.
She was a cheeky girl,
A flirt
They just stuffed her in a hole!
Surely to God you'd think at least
some bells should ring!
One day I'm going to die here too.
And they'll plant me in the dirt
Like some lame bulb
That never blooms come any spring,
Come any spring,
No, not any spring...

And yet, the only intention was tolerance, forgiveness and charity...

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