Ahhhh, St. Patrick’s Day weekend in Boston. Everyone magically becomes Irish for 72 hours, Guinness sales skyrocket, the Dropkick Murphys come home, and someone somewhere gets decked in the face and carried out by security. Ladies and Gentlemen of the internet, lend me your ears! As I weave a tale of Doc Martins, scally caps, green beer, and home-grown punk music.Continue reading →