Cormac MacConnell is a veteran writer and journalist. His much loved column, about his life in County Clare and observations about Irish life, has appeared in the Irish Voice for close to 30 years.
I fall to both knees unlike Colin Kaepernick, but like the Catholic altar boy I was in my youth -- and I raise both hands towards Heaven -- to profusely apologize publicly and abjectly to your absolutely mighty President Donald Trump.
As most of ye over there know very well, there is nothing we at home here on the Emerald Isle relish as much as a good rousing election with all the craic and sound and stimulation that goes with polling battles.
Let's have a lighthearted interlude in the wake of a papal visit which was a damp squib in the end after a searingly lovely summer.
Incredible events even during what media folk always called the Silly Season in years gone by.
"Does life imitate art? Does art forebode life?.. Here are the facts of the situation atop my Clare fence."
Nightmares can be fearful experiences altogether as all of us know. This bitter reality was hallmarked for me on an early August night here in Clare.
"Our county identities and templates are so deeply embedded within our heads...maybe that is both a weakness and a strength of some kind. I am not sure."
A soaring fireworks display over the Shannon to signify the ongoing Brian Boru festival in my Killaloe was just one index to the incredible summer we are relishing throughout the sun-baked island.
If we males performed half as well on the sporting fields as our womenfolk then the outlook would be much brighter for all concerned.
In our unique heatwave, there is a growing shortage of water nationally but, by heavens, there is no scarcity at all of midsummer craic and festivalia. A real lava of levity and laughter and pure joy at about every level.