OMGJeremy

European-Americans, or, Pride In The Most Unusual Things, With A Focus On Irish-Americans

2010 Update: This article was composed by Fly and me back in the heady days of 2006, when being offensive ruled the day and if people stumbled onto OMGJ from searching related things and thought we were being serious because they had no idea that this is a so-called Humor Site, well it wasn’t OUR fault. We are older now, and I remember all of the HATE MAIL this generated, lordy be. Seems that these European-Pride people are awfully sensitive and cannot stand to think that someone is speaking ill of them. Although it is amusing to note that the Italians said, “Everything you said about Italians was WRONG. However you definitely have those disgusting Irish pegged!” And the Irish who contacted me informed me that I was a liar and very bigoted about the Irish, but they made sure to mention that they laughed about what was said about Italians. We were called racists, lovers of the KKK, staunch right wing Republicans, and other incorrect and disturbing things. When they found out that my three biggest nationalities that I consist of are Italian, Irish, and German, they would tell me that I was a SHAME to the [whichever] people. Fly is like Polish or something and no one cares about the Polish; there is no Pride to rile up and storm to defend. Mark this down as the only time I have been a bit jealous of Fly.

Living here in Americaland is alright I guess, if you make sure to not pay attention to politics, newsmedia, other Americans you see on the streets and in your homes, or most television shows and movies meant to entertain the majority. I mean, if you avoid thinking about all of those things, America is special and a delight to live in. Unfortunately, though, it’s next to impossible to ignore all of the bad points. I’m one of those people who has a hard time NOT focusing on the severely embarassing and negative parts of being an American, so I can complain with the best of them. And before anyone here gets offended and writes me a hastily composed email which basically shouts “AMERCA IZ GR8 IF U DONT LIEK IT U CNA LEAV IT!” I would like to kindly tell you to fuck off in advance. If you think it’s wrong to have high standards regarding the country in which you live, and vocally complaining when you are disappointed with everyone else, then you, quite simply, are an annoying jerkhole, and I want nothing at all to do with you. The people who don’t follow blindly and question the actions of those in power are doing the rest of you a favor you don’t deserve.

There are a variety of topics that would make a fine ranty article, however, we’ve decided to touch on one of the more mystifying oddities of American Life: European-American Pride. These are people who aren’t even actually from whatever country they are so proud of. No. Their ancestors were from there. And, for most Americans, not even ALL of their ancestors were from whatever country, since we are on the whole a great pack of mutts with a blended and diverse ancestral heritage, which I had always considered as something kind of cute. But no, European-Americans feel the Very Real Need to identify with a nation of people who aren’t Americans, even though these same enthusiastic other-country lovers are also usually fervent, dangerously patriotic lovers of America, as well. As I said, I do not understand it myself, so I cannot adequately explain their actions. Think of this article as a learning experience for us all. Now, take my hand as we enter the fabulous world of the German-American.

Pale? Doughy? Stinking of Beer? Why You Must Be A German-American!

What makes a person German-American Proud? I’m not exactly sure. Maybe a quarter of that person can be traced to Germany, and therefore they’ve decided that this means that they can be considered German-Americans and embrace things that they consider as “Traditional German Endeavors” – like eating strudel and schnitzel once a year during der Oktoberfest, and drinking beers that have German-sounding names. Also, they embrace astonishing stereotypes as if they were really true, which we will touch on later. They are loud, wear shirts with cutesy sayings about Germany, have a bumper sticker on their car of the German flag, and often mention in conversation about how they are German-Americans. Except they usually drop the American part and refer to themselves as actual Germans, which is confounding as they’ve never even set foot outside of the United States and have the last name of Parker, which they quickly point out is because they are “German on [their] mother’s side, actually.” Yeah, right. Nice save.

How could I have forgotten about der Oktoberfest schlampen?! A staple of any fake German celebration!

Another funny thing I’ve heard more than one German-American moron say is that little joke in which they’re all “I don’t hate [him or her or you or them] because they’re Jewish. I hate them because I’m German.” And you hate them because you’re German because they’re Jewish? Har har, shithead. That wouldn’t really be funny anyway, but I always figure that the German-American who said it believes it, if only just a little bit. I mean, they already believe most other German stereotypes and embrace them to the fullest, so why not the stereotype involving Aryans and hate and such? “Hey gang, let’s put on our lederhosen, get tanked on Heineken, and spraypaint some swastikas down at the synagogue! Sieg Heil! Hahaha thank god I have a German last name or I’d miss out on all of this good German fun!”

Every Italian Stereotype You’ve Ever Heard Is Absolutely True

Italian-Americans are among the most vocal and obnoxious European Pride groups there are. A very, very small percentage of Italian-Americans even bother with the hyphenated American part. They want to be known as straight up Italians, and will often even speak in some strange hybrid of an Italian accent if they drink enough of their pizza wine or are trying to impress non-Italians, or if they are surrounded by other Italians. Which is likely, since they only feel comfortable around large groups of their massive Italian Families while eating in an Olive Garden commercial, or hanging out with their Mafioso friends. Or at least their pseudo-Mafioso friends. It’s true, rather than combat offensive stereotypes, Italians not only embrace them, but they make up new ones that are each some how worse than the last.

I guess Italian Americans have guidos now too. Is this one? Whatever he is, it is so gross.

I’m not really sure how real Italians compare to the American version. I somehow imagine them to be much less irritating over there. Maybe they have a genuine love for life instead of that over-the-top, loud-mouthed, pretend version that the Italian-Americans emphasize in an effort to make all of the non-Italians incredibly jealous. I can’t imagine that real Italians make sure to make their Italianness super-known to everyone around. Probably because everyone is already an Italian, so they don’t need to try to out-Italian everyone else. Because that’s the most annoying shit ever.

Italian-Americans as a group are probably the ones who couldn’t live without their Italianess, as it is, indeed, their entire reason for living. Unlike the German-Americans who are German only when it suits them, Italian-Americans NEVER STOP acting Italian. From the moment they wake up in the morning to the sounds of their hundred-year-old Italian grandmother smacking her three seventy-whatever year old daughters upside their heads, telling them to “shutta uppa [their] face” through work at the deli, barbershop, or “doing legitimate business” with the “boys,” during their lengthy dinner of some sort of ravioli with the seventeen family members who already live there or just dropped by, until they go to sleep at night with their loving spouse, or honorary spouse-for-the-night, the Italian-American is a walking, living, breathing stereotype. And they can never, ever stop.

Fuck the Irish and Their Holiday; Fly Has His Big Rant

As I write this up, it’s St. Patrick’s day. An old holiday celebrated by the Irish, because some guy drove snakes out of their land a long time ago. Why he drove them out, or how, I don’t really know or care. Actually, I heard it was just some weird twisted metaphor about how this wonderful Catholic saint came to their damnable Emerald Isle and destroyed their happy pagan lives. Which modern-day Irish-Americans think of as a good thing, I guess, and, as their traditional way goes, use March 17 as an excuse to drink. A lot. Just like those other holidays they use to drink a lot, such as Christmas, Presidents Day, or Tuesdays.

But why give a whole day to the Irish you ask? Well that’s a good question. And I have no answer. Just a hundred years ago, we treated the Irish worse than we treat Mexicans right now. We hired them to work dangerous fourteen hour jobs for less than a dollar a day. Mostly because no one would hire Blacks or Mexicans back then, at all. But you know what? Those Irish immigrants were happy with the work. They came over here, the land of opportunity, to get a new start, and they got it. America didn’t have a trace of the blight that was causing the Potato Famine that drove billions and billions of starving, poor Irish Peoples across the ocean and into New York City. Until NYC couldn’t stand it anymore and started shipping them off to other places in America that desperately needed cheap, cheap labor. The Irish didn’t go waving their pride around to other people while they did either. Today’s workers could stand to learn a thing or two from their mentality.

So what happened? Why have things changed so much in just a century? Why can the Irish do things we’d never imagined possible, such as own land and vote? Well, it has something to do with the Depression, World War II, Conan O’Brien’s soaring popularity and unions or something. Also, they started infiltrating the police force, bringing us the brilliant and frightening stereotype that I call Officer O’Malley. Point is, the Irish are now considered our equals.

Step inside a typical Irish American home. Enjoy the traditional breakfast being offered.

But are they really considered equal? Today they’re celebrating their heritage…by rubbing it in everyone else’s faces. Prancing around and gloating – as if they are not only equal to the rest of us – but somehow BETTER! And everyone else likes to pretend they’re Irish too, with their ‘Kiss Me I’m Irish’ shirts, hats, and buttons. I have no idea why anyone would want to kiss an Irish. Maybe they hate themselves. God knows I hate them.

Some More Facts About The Irish, As They Are In My Mind And On My Television Set

They enjoy disgusting food and have a weird love of potatoes: Corn beef and cabbage might actually be the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen and eaten. It looks like somebody threw up on your plate and smells twice as bad as if they actually had. I cant even begin to describe the taste, mostly because I’m trying to block out any memories of ever having eaten it. And the potatoes, I have no idea what’s up with this. I mean, besides the fact that in piss-poor Ireland, where the people are just as impoverished as anyone in a regular Third World Country, the potato was once killed and eaten for its uncommonly nutritious potato-meats. Apparently in the 1840s, in Ireland, they hunted the potato to extinction. Since they couldn’t figure out how to eat anything else, nearly the entire population of Ireland died. So of course, nearly dying of starvation, they finally figured out how to get on boats, and came to America where they started their Irish-American race.

Drunken Liquor Binges: This isn’t so bad, in moderation. Getting drunk to the point you don’t know your name, or how ugly that girl across the room is, can be a fun time. Especially if you have sex with the ugly girl, and all your friends make fun of you so badly that you just want to kill every one of them and cry yourself to sleep. Good times. But the Irish have a tendency to take it too far, drinking everyday, and twice as much on holidays. They continually wind up in bar fights or hospitals. This can be amusing for a while. If you come upon a drunk Irishman (just walk into any bar, they’ll be the loudest, most annoying person there. Guaranteed) ask him to sing you a song. He’ll either sing you one about the Ol’ Emerald Isle and do a jig, or he’ll punch you in the face. Probably both.

Huge Families: The Irish-Americans have even larger families than the Italian-Americans. And the Irish and the Italians are the two loudest and most obnoxious European Pride Groups around. I assume that their Catholic religion convinces them to make thousands of babies each since they aren’t supposed to believe in wonderful things like contraception and safe sex. It also seems to follow the old tradition of keeping Italian and Irish women from leaving the house by keeping them constantly pregnant. Very forward-thinking and empowering, yes? All the Irish families I’ve ever known, they all had at least eight kids. And they wonder why they’re poor. This was a good thing back before child labor laws. You could send your kid to work at age eight, so he could make some decent money for his family by working in the mines. Today though, all that kid does is use up government money and food stamps. It’s a sad day when you can’t exploit your own children for monetary gain.

There Might Be Other Pride Groups, But They Are In the Shadows of the Others Just Listed

Sadly, our article is enforcing a disturbing truth that is all over America. German-, Italian-, and Irish-Americans easily eclipse all of the other groups of European-Americans who are just as proud of their heritage. Honestly, I’m not sure if it’s that the poor Luxembourg-Americans are just not vocal enough, or if there even ARE any Luxembourg-Americans. It’s probably just that there are ABSOLUTELY NO Luxembourg stereotypes to embrace and follow. I suppose it’s all about what sells, isn’t it? Like the Swiss. There aren’t many Swiss-American Festivals because no one is interested in celebrating a tradition of timepieces, cheese, and neutrality. You go to the supermarket for your Swiss Hot Chocolate, and you actually travel to Switzerland to, you know, ski on the Alps. You can’t pretend to do that here. Scandinavian- and English-Americans mostly just blend into Plain Old Americans because there’s nothing really outstanding about their “homeland” that’s much different than here. Except, in some of the Northern States, I did notice a disturbing hint of Norwegian and Finnish and Swedish Pride, which confused and startled me. But I only saw traces of it. Not enough for me to learn anything about it at the time.

And the French-Americans are all ashamed, and prefer to embrace another nationality that they are made up of, like Scottishness or something. They all wear kilts and play bagpipes and insist that Cousteau is an old, archaic Scottish name, thank you. If not Scottish, then anything else that is inoffensive. I wouldn’t mind if there was no French-American Pride because they thought European-Pride was silly, as it is, but we all know that they are just scared of being picked on. Those French-Americans! So spineless and weaselly, just like the REAL French!

Oh yeah I forgot all the people who suddenly turn Scottish for their wedding day.

It’s Been Said A Million Times Before…

Quite evidently, as can be seen in our unbiased and fair article which you’ve just read, European-American Pride is both foolish and annoying. It would be one thing if they were large groups of immigrants retaining traditions and all of that stuff people like to do when they are forced out of their homeland to seek new ways to survive, in a place far away, and et cetera, et cetera. But you would think that by the very next generation, or second generation at the latest, they would feel like Americans. You can very easily understand your roots and traditions without having to hyphenate your nationality. Listen, Jack Schmidt, your name might be German, but you were not born in Germany, you were born in Memphis, Tennessee. That means you are not a German. Mario Spaghettioli, no matter how much you roll around in stereotypes, you are not an Italian. You were born in America, you are an American, unfortunately. You won’t be an Italian until you move to Italy, and then, only your kids born there will be Italians. You might be able to say your an American-Italian when you’re there. I don’t really know. But all of this pretending just needs to stop.

And, actually, this article needs to stop, too. You can only beat the dead European-American horse for so long before it becomes a symptom of a greater mental problem.