My last name is McCormick. But after a quick run down of Ye Ole Family Tree, I’ve found that technically, I'm about as Irish as Jackie Chan. I just have a worse temper and the inability to use a ladder to beat the crap out of five men. I may look a bit Irish, and the last name may imply my family descends from the Emerald Isle, but I’m six feet tall, so I think a strapping young Viking stud had more to do with my genetic makeup than a bowler-wearing lucky charms boy. When I sat down to ponder this concept, a tiny tale formed in my brain. Sven the Horny may have raped and pillaged the whole of my small ancestral village, but Sean "Lucky Charms" O'Malley was the one to save it. The story, herein, is contained in the following paragraphs. Enjoy.

Sean was a small, scrappy young lad, about age one and twenty when the Viking ship "The Moronic Marauder" came to lay claim to the small village of Craig Na Erin Go Bragh Du Maur. He was handsome, 5'2"-- the tallest man of the village-- and every young lass attempted to catch his eye. Sean was to follow in the footsteps of his father, Mohammed, the finest silversmith in the land. Sean, however, was more content to follow the path of ale that flowed inside his uncle's home, while he dreamed of a life of a warrior, and his uncle enchanted his young mind with tales of brave men and the young maidens they saved. As a young lad, Sean pretended to conquer the evil dragons that had taken over the castles of the distant hills, saving beautiful misses from certain death. After his dreams were dashed when his father chastised his lack of commitment to the silversmith profession, Sean resigned himself to taking over the family business. However, excess soon got the better of him. He became a regular at the village tavern, Ma Duinne, and instead of a golden-topped lass, dark amber ale became his best mate.
One night, when the lanterns had been extinguished, the children were fast asleep in their beds, the coffee was ready for the morning, and Conan O'Brien set for taping, Sean was rustled out of an alcoholic coma by a large crash outside his window. He saw, in the shadows, a tall, strapping man in a silly two-horned hat and a white furry vest. A Viking. And Sean could tell by the nametag on his shirt, "ERIK the Viking"
"Well I'll be buggered, he looks just like Tim Robbins" Sean thought to himself. Erik had knocked over the town water well, the primary source of Craig Na Erin Go Bragh Du Maur’s water supply, right outside Sean's window. From behind Erik came two just-as-strapping-but-not-quite-as-tall Vikings, Sven the Horny, and Lars the Bollocks.
The violence that ensued is not fit for the written page. But I can tell you, reader, that you don't mess with Sean when (a) he's drunk (b) you've knocked down his water well, or (c) raped his mother. That infamous drunken Irish temper was apparent when he picked up a ladder and killed 5 Vikings. For his heroic duties, Sean has forever been dubbed "The Jackie Chan of Ireland". Now every April 16th, or day that ends in ‘y’, Irishmen everywhere gather at their favorite pub for an excuse to drink until they wear panties backwards. Sean may have never rescued a young golden-haired maiden from peril, but he most certainly influenced such movies as "Rush Hour" and "Shanghai Noon".
For that, he is a hero.