Monday, March 17

Happy St. Patrick's Day!!

In the past few hours I have begun to atone for my private failings with my drinking buddies, my non-existent children, and my entire family. The remorse I feel for not going out tonight will always be with me. Words cannot describe how grateful I am for all the free beers and tongue many firemen have shown me over the years. From those to whom much booze is given, much head is expected. I have been given much: the love of my fellow Irish pals, the faith and trust of the bartenders of New York, and the chance to lead my drunk friends to the bathroom to vomit. I am deeply sorry that I did not live up to what was expected of me this and every St. Patty's Day. To every single male New Yorker who was hoping to get laid tonight, and to all those who believed that I am the fastest female car-bomb drinker of all time, I sincerely apologize.

I look at my time as a St. Patty's Day Funbag with a sense of what might have been, but I also know that as a public imbiber I, and the remarkable people with whom I have gotten smashed with, have accomplished a great deal. There is much more drinking to be done, and I cannot allow my private failings of this day to disrupt the people’s work. Over the course of my drunken life, I have insisted, I believe correctly, that people, regardless of how long they can stay in the kegstand position or keep up in power hour, take responsibility for their shenanigans. I can and will ask no less of myself.

For this reason, I am resigning from being Irish. At my father's request (since he was deeply saddened to know that he was the only drunk Thighs Family representative today), the resignation will be effective Monday, March 17, a date that he believes will permit an orderly transition.

I go forward with the belief, as others have said, that as drunks, our greatest glory consists not in never falling down stairs and almost breaking our tailbones, but in slowly rising (with the help of others) every time we fall. As I leave public debauchery, I will first do what I need to do to help and heal myself and my family: have a beer by my lonesome now that I have woken up from my nap (!!) and finished doing laundry (!!). Then I will try once again, outside of today's ridiculous tragedy, to serve the common good and to move toward the ideals and solutions which I believe can build a future of hope and opportunity for us and for our children.

I hope all of New York will pray that next year I, Thighs McGee, will not only take off from work on March 17th, but get so fucking drunk that I'll need to take off the 18th as well. Thank you.


PS I wrote Spitzer's speech for him.

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