It’s all well and good for a “man” to enjoy ice cream. It’s not like he has a dainty figure to watch (except he probably does if he’s living in Williamsburg, the Los Angeles of Brooklyn), so it’s understandable that he might want to get a bit overzealous with his enjoyment every now and again. However, to ignore the time-honored tradition of enjoying pure alcohol on Saint Patrick’s Day instead of diluting it with a whiskey-tinged ice cream flight is, quite simply, unacceptable.
And yet, at OddFellows on N. 3rd and Kent, the bastardization of Saint Paddy’s Day continues to get worse (it’s kind of like Columbus Day for Irish people in a way) in that ice cream is supposed to substitute and/or supplement the necessity of getting completely and utterly blackout drunk. Even Van Leeuwen doesn’t have the dickless presence of mind to promote such a thing. So if you’re a “man” living in a condo near OddFellows, why don’t you just veer toward the Levee instead? All the sausage there might just make up for you’re lacking.