The Men from Atlantis Communiqués

Weird holidays. You guys don’t get it. You have an Irish monk from the dark ages of Europe who is revered hundreds of years later, on the other side of the world, for chasing the snakes out of Ireland. And how do we commemorate his victory? Why, by chugging green beer until we turn green and/or puke, that’s how! It’s actually surprisingly appropriate when you know the true story of St. Patty’s day.

First of all, there never were any snakes in Ireland, not since it was much nearer to the equator, anyway. So, obviously the legend is not talking about your garden variety, crawls on its belly, hiss hiss, chomp chomp type of snakes. Nor are they referring to lawyers, which at that point in history were virtually non-existent in Ireland. So what is it that the legend is referring to?

Some modern scholars claim that the real heroic act of St. Patty was to help preserve the learning of past times and help to save western civilization. They are partially right. It was what he discovered in that vast treasure trove of ancient volumes that led him to save Ireland and the exact details have been suppressed . His story has been purposely distorted to pretect the innocence and sanity of the masses.

This story begins long, long ago in a civilization now lost and forgotten. This was a shining example of brotherhood, unity and peace; a sophisticated people with an advanced civilization: the Irie! This small but mighty tough island kingdom was an ally and trading partner with her neighbor to the southwest, Atlantis. Their only foes were the hostile Lemurians, but they were way over in the pacific ocean and not much of a regular threat.

Now, just as the Atlanteans were members of the Galactic Assembly of Worlds and tended to trade most often with the technology-worshiping Zeta-Reticulans, also known as “eben’s”, so too did the Lemurians have their favorite tourists and trading partners, these being the inhabitants of Alpha Draconia, also known as the ‘reptoids’ because of their reptilian or ophidian appearance. The reptoids even had a scientific research base in Lemuria and, according to Atlantean agents, it was this that initiated the first Lemurian disaster. A Reptoid experiment went awry, promptly vaporizing a third of Lemuria in a blinding flash. Rather than admit their ineptitude and take the blame, the wily reptoids claimed an Irish terrorist had sabotaged their equipment and intentionally caused the disaster. Although the Lemurians were bloodthirsty, warlike and short-tempered, they were also gullible and naive, so they swiftly swallowed this line of malarkey and were out to get the Irish. Now that their kingdom was in a shambles they couldn’t do the job militarily, because Irie’s ally, Atlantis would join the fray and bring about Lemuria’s doom. The island of Mu was busy with their own problems (another android uprising) and wisely decided not to be involved. At this point, the reptoids, ever eager to maintain old alliances and seize new property for themselves, volunteered to come to the aid of the stricken Lemurian civilization and handle “the rubout” for them. Using their shape-shifting powers, the reptoids disguised themselves as really pale humans and infiltrated Ireland. However, for a long while all their attempts to disrupt and destroy Irie met with utter failure. That is, until one fateful day when one of the reptoids unknowing local contacts, a town drunk named Seamus O’blivion, grabbed a beaker of what he assumed was ale from the sinister reptoids table and before his host could warn him of the danger, drank it. The beaker had been full of grain alcohol, which the reptoids use as a solvent. Much to the reptoid agent’s surprise, the irie didn’t immediately keel over dead as a reptoid would have, but instead became loud, boisterous, nearly unintelligible and violent. The sinister reptoid struck upon a diabolical new plan and after conferring with his superiors, was given the green light to proceed. The reptoids then gave the Irie the recipe for whiskey and sat back in delight and satisfaction as their high civilization crumbled from within. The reptoids then took over the Emerald isle, posing as the ruling elite and controlling the Irie populace for millenia. This continued until our hero, St. Patrick, discovered the details of their nefarious plan. Since the monastaries of northern Europe are known for their brewing, St. Patty toured the land, stopping at the castle, keep, manor or tower of each land holding noble and introducing them to his shamrock ale, which wasn’t actually ale at all, but whiskey. Well after the first few keeled over dead and reverted to their true forms, most of the rest fled the isle or were hunted down. To this day, the Irish like to have a shot of whiskey with a new acquaintance, blissfully unaware of where this tradition began and what it’s significance is.

The liberation of Ireland and the driving out of the reptoids (also known as snakemen) has been commemorated ever since with a yearly festival where one consumes quantities of the Irie’s favorite drink of the golden age, beer, colored green so that none would ever forget the reptoid menace. Sadly, the evil poison of the reptoids, whiskey, has not only destroyed their earlier civilization but has also erased their memory of the peril from which they were saved by the heroic St. Patrick!

Hugh Mann