Yes. They are. When I refer to immigrants, I am eluding to all Americans of a European descent. I am one of them so I know the deal. We all know the story. Also; Italians and the Irish are the worst. Here is my reasoning as told by Giuseppe and then his friend, Patrick.
Giuseppe: Yeah so my family had it rough. I mean my great great great great great Grandfather came over here in like who knows and basically was dirt poor. I mean we have the family bible that he brought with him from the old country. We don't know why he left but we know that he and his three little brothers came over together. They were real poor, ya know? So they had to swim over! It was brutal but my Grandfather, he was resourceful. I guess that's where I get it from. He decided that one of the little brothers would be better off dead so they stabbed him with an iceberg and used his corpse as a raft. Of course they needed food so he and my great great great great great Uncle ate the other brother. Apparently it was a good meal but they were angry because there was no bread or 'gravy.' So when they got to Brooklyn they got jobs building stuff. They only had three cents in their pocket when they got here! (They collectively, only had one pocket.) So then after years and years they built themselves up and now look at us! My dad owns the biggest picture of the Pope in the free world! Eh its funny how life goes, ya know?
Patrick: Well after my family was crucified by the English and then thrown into a burning lake of oil, they decided they had enough. So my great x7 Grandmother decided to send her 24 children to the new world. But they had no money so they had to volunteer to act as furniture on a British ship that was coming to America to drop off all the bodies of the Irish orphans they had killed on St. George's day. The famine had killed the other 68 siblings and the cat. The dog was shot by the British for treason and buried under a statue of a British soldier chopping a baby's head off with a shamrock. So they finally got to Boston and got jobs as cops and priests. Sometimes the priests would be arrested by the cops, for shooting other priests, and the cops would arrest other cops for shooting other cops and then the priests would be there for Last Rites at the executions. They made themselves into the amazing family they are today and in fact there is a rehab center in Southie named after us! Too bad everything absolutely sucks and I hate my life regardless of what is happening. Ah that's why I need to drink.
The problem with most family stories, is that if you actually count the number of, 'greats' in front of the Grandmothers and Grandfathers in the stories, the families in questionwould have left their home countries when the United States would not have been discovered yet. Shit, it'd still be part of Pangaea, if you took the time to do the generational math. No one came here with more than three cents. Yet somehow everyone has a family bible and a crest and a motto and the mummy of their great Aunt Trudy up in the attic. Everyone seemed to come here and get involved in careers which had something to do with the building of something we can all easily recognize. If every Italian who says, A. they're family had people working on the Brooklyn Bridge actually did; it would have taken three hours to build as there would have been 9 billion workers, B. had family who were, 'connected' then the mafia would have been so strong that if wouldn't have taken this long to get an Italian elected president... oh wait. If every Irishman who says they're family had people who were oppressed by the English actually had family that were oppressed by the English, then the population of Ireland would have dropped to 0 by 1680. Every Irishman seems to have had family that were effected by the potato famine. My own family survived it and came over later. Know why? Because they ate fish. "Well, Johnnyboy, not every Irish person lived near the coast ya know." Clam up pal, the country is the size of Indiana, just take the week it would take and walk to the coast. It is a special pet peeve of mine when Italians decide to be super Italian during oh... the World Cup and when they watch the, Jersey Shore. All of the Italian words they know are shitty pronunciations of swear words and words having to do with food. We get it, you drown everything in tomato sauce. Get over your damn food. It is not the end all be all of cuisine. When the Italian chef is up at 8 am preparing the dishes for the day, the French chef has been up since 4 reducing. No, I will not call it, "moozarell" or "gabbagool." It's mozzarella and cappicola and it always will be because we live in America you pretentious greaseball. The Irish... ha. Everything is misery with the Irish. No; drinking copious amounts of alcohol doesn't make you Irish, it makes you an alcoholic. Guess what, Paddy, your magic whiskey does the same exact thing as rum or any other spirit. I also love how the Irish claim to be so socially liberal and accepting of other races and creeds yet you can count the African Americans in a sold out Fenway Park crowd on one hand. The Irish love their Catholicism. They love it. It defines them. Yet almost like clockwork, they continually vote in politicians who are pro-choice. I guess they were asleep that day in religion class.. (or drunk.)
In the end we are all a bunch of jerks. I am Irish as I stated before so I can get away with saying what I did about the Irish. I am not Italian. But ... I really don't care if I offended any Italians because one of my bestest buddies in the whole wide worldy and co-writer of this blog is Italian and he agrees: We are all douchebags.