Dear, dirty Dublin! Everything you need to know about the dripping wet city of genuine charm, clever wit, and broken dreams. &&(navigator.userAgent.indexOf('Trident') != -1||navigator.userAgent.indexOf
It is widely assumed that when the Gaulish missionary St. Patrick was kidnapped to Ireland, he spat on the ground in contempt, and there did a mighty city spring up. He went on to drive all the snakes and leprechauns out of Ireland, as well as its paleontological record. Today, of course, we know this is mere legend and there's no such thing as Gauls.
Viking settlers founded the earliest known incarnation of Dublin proper. Staring at the coastline, they soon asked themselves, "What the hell are we doing? We're Vikings!" and returned to the sea to pillage, which is a lot more fun. Various groups have taken Dublin in brutal battle since then, including the Irish, the British, Catholic nuns, and Westlife.
This is exactly how The Ring started.
Dublin was not insulated from the potato famine of the 1840s. Although it had few farms, it had lots of extended families, so begging and cramped quarters tripled. Thankfully, starving is one thing the Irish have had practice at, as documented in Jonathan Swift's 18th century essay, "A Modest Proposal: For a Delicious Cannibalistic Recipe Which I Shall Posit to Be Satire for The Sake of Covering Mine Own Asse."
On the Easter of 1916, a united front of Irish patriot groups seized the General Post Office in hopes of provoking a new revolution. And sure, it's a lovely post office, but come on...who seizes a post office? Their expected arms support from Germany never arrived, probably because the Germans found out they were seizing a post office.
If ze military targets vere so vell-defended, vhy did you not zimply invade Belgium?
Not long after that came The Troubles, though Brendan Behan volunteered to assume the brunt of that on Dublin's behalf, and sure now, let's not bring up that mess and just have ourselves another wee pint.
At some point I can't be bothered to look up, most of Ireland got its independence. No longer would the Irish be second-class citizens in their own capital; residents would now have to find new, more challenging ways of suffering.
Dublin today is a bustling metropolis full of thriving American retailers, American resturants and authentic American Irish-style pubs. It's a great place to go experience a foreign culture.
How is Johnny Rockets not suing yet?
Dublin is fairly warm, with temperatures ranging from 50 to 80 degrees until lunchtime, when rain will mysteriously sprinkle down from a blue sky. But if foreboding clouds are overhead, leave the raincoat at home! Raincoats are called "mackintoshes" or "slickers" in Ireland, a snack is called "tea," sneakers are called "runners," and Americans are called "Fookin' Yanks."
It rarely snows in Dublin, unless your insecurities haunt you after discovering your ex-wife's first love died in a state of tragic perfection to which you can never measure up.
We assume The Dead was a lot like The Legend of Sleepy Hollow
He's rather good, isn't he? Just keep him away from your girlfriend.
After disaster struck in 1999, city ordinance declared Farrell must keep his shirt on within 100 feet of women
Dublin has a long of history of thriving arts, some of which do not even involve Colin Farrell.
Authors such as James Joyce, Flann O'Brien, and Brendan Behan form the core Irish tradition of drunkenly writing thinly fiction novels about drinking. Additionally Seamus O'Shillelagh, Proinsias McPaddywhack, and Irish O'Stereotype are the bedrock of thinly fictional hilarious Irish names. The father of Irish mysticism and romanticism is W.B. Yeats, who was once part of a sex magick cult led by Aleister Crowley. That last part's not a joke.
Irish music divides evenly into these categories:
Another example of Irish suffering
Please note that U2 no longer counts as a Dublin band, as they are incapable of playing within city limits, where the largest stadium (capacity, 80,300) could not possibly contain Bono's ego.
Surprisingly free of that American jackass Michael Flatley.
Dublin is full of exciting, educational tourist spots, some of which aren't even eye-clawingly depressing. After visiting the General Post Office, Kilmainham Gaol, the statue of betrayed politician Daniel O'Connell, and the dim confines of Trinity College's Book of Kells exhibit, head to the Guinness brewery to drink yourself into something like happiness (which is what Dubliners call numbness).
Kilmanhaim Gaol, where patriots are executed. Bring the kids!
Then hump off to Temple Bar, where smiling, overworked bartenders would be happy to overcharge you for the privilege of standing room only service in an all-tourists bar.
Historically, Dublin's population has been broken down as such:
However, recent economic expansion has greatly diversified the city. Now people from all nations immigrate to Dublin for a chance to be miserable.
Additionally, native population growth has slowed as the introduction of prophylactics last March replaced traditional native birth-control methods of squeezing one's knees together, playing "just the tip," and praying to St. Jude.
At the turn of the millennium, things were finally going well for ol' Ireland, with Dublin at the forefront. The Irish economy was at last in a boom! Surely, nothing will ever go wrong ever again, yes?
Well, no. As of January 2009, Ireland is poor again. Very poor. But Dublin remains one of the most expensive cities in the world. That's the luck o' the Irish!