A day that will live in infamy? The times that try men’s souls? How about it was the best of times, it was the worst of times? Fine, I’ll take the latter and in a few hours I’ll be sitting calmly in a bar in San Francisco, rocking slowly in a rocking chair, wearing Saints gear and knitting away the demise of Colin Kaepernick, Gore and Aldon Smith…I will be the personification of Madam Defarge. I will take the abuse, the ridicule, the criticisms of the French Revolution…
Whole lotta criticisms about the French revolution, 200 years or so later? Jesus, talk about Monday morning quarterbacking.
Yeah, but people don’t like the Saints in this town. For weeks now, about a dozen to be exact, I’ve had to listen to that drunk lady at the corner of O’Farrell and Larkin telling me to get out of her city or the people at work telling me how the Saints aren’t for real. Worst of all, I’ve had to hear it from the guys at the corner convenience store. Definitely, the worst. Once I self-identified as a Saints fan, it’s been non-stop crap and I am in that store almost every day. Have to be…in San Francisco’s Tenderloin neighborhood, the corner store is the be all, end all of your day-to-day odds and ends shopping experience. No grocery stores to speak of in these forty square blocks so, you need some soda, some hot dogs, some water or fruit? The convenience store is where you gotta go and manning my particular store are two guys decked out in 49ers gear, every fucking day.
How many times have you had to hear about that damned playoff game?
How many times have you had to hear about the Saint’s run defense?
How many times have you had to hear about how Drew Brees doesn’t look like the same player, how the Saints couldn’t even beat Alex Smith, how the Saints haven’t faced a defense like the 49ers?
Every fucking day.
I’ve had to listen to this even as the Saints compiled a better record, showed a defense that can actually play and lit it up on offense here and there, certainly a hell of a lot more than the San Francisco 49ers have…like I said, it’s been the best of times, and the worst of times…and I’m ready for it to end.
Knitting away…shit, I’ll even dress like a matronly French woman if it’ll help. This is important…I don’t want to have to finally change stores.
Ed update… I’m really not happy with Greg Williams…and Roby back on a return? WTF?
Having lived in both New Orleans and San Francisco, and having plans to move to San Francisco in eleven weeks, one might think I might be a bit conflicted about the playoff game today between the Saints and the 49ers…
One might be wrong.
Yes, I love the City by the Bay, it’s one of the more interesting places I’ve ever been, both as a social worker and writer…but when it comes to the 49ers…nahhhh. One of my favorite memories from that team was the 2005 draft when Mike Nolan, the then 49ers coach stunned the whole damned city by choosing Alex Smith with the #1 pick that year. You see, Mike was a bit of an egomaniac, along with being a rather shitty coach and he apparently felt he might have a personality conflict with the quarterback the entire city wanted him to draft, the quarterback from the California Golden Bears.
And Mike Nolan certainly didn’t want a personality conflict on his team, so he took Alex Smith instead of Aaron Rodgers.
Yeah, it turned out well.
To this day…there are people in San Francisco who still complain about the idiocy of that pick, and rightfully so, but as a fan of the Saints, I had no problem with it whatsoever and still don’t. Thanks Mike…may your ghost still grimly stumble about Candlestick to be spit on by angry San Franciscans, well…at least until the 49ers move to Santa Clara in a couple of years and become one of those teams that identify with their city by name only, kind of like the West Coast version of the New Jersey York Jets…
The New Orleans Saints…staying true to their fans and true to their city, and the team who had a head coach smart enough to take the right quarterback…
Did you hear an internet group in Michigan has raised over $63,000 dollars to put a statue of Robocop in downtown Detroit?
No, I’m not kidding.
It’s completely true, and a fantastic idea. If not familiar with the Robocop legend, allow me to so inform: Robocop is a cyborg police officer who not only was a one man wrecking crew in stopping crime all over Old Detroit, but he was a robot who so touchingly, was able to retain some of his humanity, his affectionate feelings for his wife and son while he pulled guns of varying sizes and blasted his way through Dick Jones of the evil Omni Consumer Products Company (OCP) and all his henchmen, especially that entertaining, but utter rat bastard Clarence Boddicker, (“guns, guns, guns…”) who was responsible for killing Officer Murphy in the first place, before Murphy got all wired up and transformed into Robocop.
So yeah, Robocop saved a city, he saved men, women and children and taught us all a lesson about the evils of corporate privatization, so of course he needs a statue in Mayor Bing’s new plans to revitalize Detroit. To not so do would be a crime against justice and humanity.
Yet Mayor Bing will not commit.
Nope, but I bet you can guess what guy will get a statue in Detroit, hands down…guaranteed.
Yeah, the guy responsible for putting out the Dearborn Independent newspaper, the guy whose anti-Semitic, collected writings in that newspaper were put together in a book called “The International Jew,” the guy Adolf Hitler mentioned in Mein Kampf and considered an inspiration, who Heinrich Himmler referred to as “one of our most valuable, important and witty fighters.”
Oh sure, he’ll get a statue.
Henry Ford, the same man who in 1938 received the award of the Grand Cross of the German Eagle, the highest award Nazi Germany could give to a foreigner.
Henry Ford, the man whose writings, whose book “The International Jew,” was said by convicted Hitler Youth leader, Balder von Schirach who deported 65,000 jews to concentration camps in Poland, to be the “decisive anti-Semitic book I was reading and the book that influenced my comrades…I read it and became anti-Semitic. The book made a great influence on myself and my friends because we saw in Henry Ford the representative of success and also the representative of a progressive social policy.”
Yeah, Ford’ll get a statue…but not Robocop.
Giving Robocop a statue would be absolutely ridiculous, a farce, silly and an insult…but an insult to who?
The American Nazi Party? Aryan Nations, Idaho and Montana?
I don’t get it, but with this in mind, the New Orleans Saints will welcome the Detroit Lions into the Superdome.
The Lions, without their master of personal restraint, Ndamukong Suh, will try and fail to win this game and the Saints will quickly send this team, representative of a town with such misplaced priorities, secret history and a really poor choice in statues back to their fabled Old Detroit, and back to cohabitation with the most evil team in hockey, the Red Wings…
Who dat sey dey gonna beat dem Saints?
Not Henry Ford, not Ndamukong Suh, not the Lions…and certainly not a city who so casually dismisses the greatness that is Robocop in favor of a Nazi sympathizer…
Ed. Note…well, that statement was certainly painful, especially to Mike Smith…
The Atlanta Falcons…
Really hate them, how can you not?
Their quarterback has a nickname and the look of some asshole in Top Gun, one of the worst freaking films ever made, and I say that thinking Val Kilmer is pretty cool overall…little bloated these days, but there was a time I’d watch Top Secret, Real Genius, Thunderheart, oh and he was pretty bad ass as Doc Holiday in Tombstone even though that movie sucked in general…and Wonderland, how do you not like his turn as the man-whore John Holmes in that exceptional film.
That’s what I’m saying…you see, I know Val Kilmer and Matt Ryan is no Val Kilmer…
“Matty Ice” is the guy they hire when Val’s unavailable, too busy kicking around New Orleans or hanging out at his ranch in what, New Mexico? Ryan’s the guy at the fraternity who pushes the hazing to the point someone gets seriously hurt, beaten to death with paddles or hanging from a noose made out of police tape, grinning as he scoffs at the police captain who hasn’t figured out yet the jocks run this MTV town…he’s Ted McGinley, that asshole quarterback Stan Gable in Revenge of the Nerds, or Roger Phillips, in past-its-prime Happy Days. Face it, Matt Ryan is one shitty actor and one overrated quarterback.
He ain’t got a damned thing on Mr. Kilmer.
I don’t even care how much Ryan does for charity…making me watch that horrid Falcons on the school bus commercial for what, over a year? Good lord…and because the team and the city of Atlanta supports this guy, screw Atlanta too…hate them all, no offense meant of course, but if forced to make a wager, I’d say Val would most certainly want nothing to do with Ryan or the entire Falcons team…
Oh, and after the game, everybody go rent Heat, another bad-ass Kilmer flick with Robert DeNiro and Al Pacino. Great way to decompress after the contest, a heist flick with top line actors, the kind of people Val knows personally, but Matty Ice can only see in darkened theaters because people with artistic merit clearly see how he is less than human and certainly not worth anyone’s time…
So, for the city of New Orleans and Val Kilmer, Go Saints! Make this victory a painful statement.
So, this week the New Orleans Saints go into St. Louis to play the “Rams.” Ha…sorry, still can’t get over the whole St. Louis Cardinals football team winding up in Arizona, and Los Angeles Rams winding up in St. Louis thing…it would seem to me, why not just have Arizona become the Rams and the Rams become the Cardinals so balance can again be restored to this horrible, wonderful world…
Okay, but that’s not really my point, so, sorry.
Oh, and the point is also not to tear down the Cardinals winning the World Series.
I don’t really care who wins the World Series anymore…and the reason why, okay, that is a larger part of the overall point…
You see, back when I was a wee lad, my family and I used to go on vacation every summer. Everyone loads into the fire engine red Chevy Vega and off we go, hitting the interstate to whatever relative we were going to spend a week with this year…we hit Tampa, we hit Hershey, Kansas City and oh yeah, we hit St. Louis. Went to Six Flags, went to the Arch, saw the Mississippi River and yes, we went to a St. Louis Cardinals baseball game at Busch Stadium, and it wasn’t just any game. This was late summer in August of 1977. Back then, I was a huge baseball fan, played in Little League, collected baseball cards and paid attention to all the milestones so I was well aware that Lou Brock of the St. Louis Cardinals was closing in on Ty Cobb’s once considered untouchable career stolen bases record. As we got closer to the game I knew we’d be attending, I began paying attention to how many stolen bases Brock still needed, how many left he still had to go. I wondered, would we be at the game when he did it? Could the stars possibly line up in this way?
He broke the record the night after my family was at the game.
You know, but I got over it. No worries…it took some time, but I moved on and right about the time I’d moved past all that, five years later, that same goddamned Cardinals team beat my hometown baseball team in the 1982 World Series.
But, okay…okay, I got over that too…the Cardinals, I stopped hoping for plane crashes, I stopped wishing death upon the entire team…no worries, moving on…and then let’s flash forward 15 years. This would be the year of the whole Sammy Sosa, Mark McGwire home run chase. I was excited and interested. Even though I was no longer the biggest baseball fan (NHL…Hockey baby! Violence! Speed! Precsision! Blood! In love!) but I paid attention to the narratives and I was enjoying the competition. For my birthday that year, my parents asked me what I would like to do and I said, in lieu of any sort of gifts, let’s go see the Cardinals play, see if McGwire hits a home run. So we go to a game and every time he comes up to bat, the flash bulbs would start popping, everywhere across the sold out stadium. It was fascinating, thrilling and in McGwire’s 3rd at bat, he did it.
I got to see Mark McGwire hit a home run the season he hit 70 and first broke Roger Maris’s record.
Yep, sure did.
What do you mean, steroids?
Curse you Cardinals!!!!!!!
And that brings us to this weeks Saints game. I know the Saints are playing the “Rams,” but as I mentioned before, they are still the damned Cardinals to me and though it may be a different sport, it’s the same name and the same town and the Saints need to win for the city of New Orleans and just as important to me, they need to win to avenge my disappointment, my disillusionment and the tarnishing of various family memories that damned city is responsible for ruining.
Sometimes, I think I like the drink a little too much.
‘Tis true…back in my early to mid-twenties, there was no question about it and during the time I actually lived in New Orleans, again…no doubt. I liked a pitcher or two, perhaps a bit more than I should have but hell, in New Orleans I was taking a break from my social work career and tending bar in the French Quarter for fun and a change of pace so, no worries…the drinks were flowing and good times were had by all, and I can’t say it ever cost me anything. No failed relationships, lost jobs, drunk driving arrests…nothing. I tend to be more of the fun-loving, grease the wheels, laugh a little harder and a little longer, all good kind of buzzed.
Nonetheless, there have been times in my life when I felt the need to take a break from it all, like when I’m trying to focus especially hard on what I need to accomplish and that meant no distractions so, ya cut out the bad food, the booze, the cigarettes, television for the most part…etc.
Distractions, you know? Get rid of them until the task is done.
And until the game tonight this had been one of those times…but come on, Saints versus Indianapolis?
This game is the perfect storm.
Not only do I not have tonight off, which means I am free to relax and watch the game at my leisure, but I don’t have to work tomorrow either. Yep, got Monday off and on Tuesday, I only have to work like two hours, mid-afternoon.
Oh, but more important than all that?
Yes…the Curtis Painter. That gridiron legend, the ironman quarterback threatening Brett Favre’s consecutive games played record…Indianapolis Colts Superstar, Curtis Painter. One of the highest paid, most talented quarterbacks in the game…Curtis Painter, and he is set to make this the game!
Oh yeah, we all know how Indianapolis is an aging team, they don’t quite have the running game or the receivers they once had; their defense is getting old and hitting opposing quarterbacks with canes and walkers, but so long as the Colts have Curtis Painter, so long as he calls the signals, executes his pin-point passing and hands off the ball like there is no tomorrow, the Colts, well, even with all their other deficiencies, they always have a Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz….
Oh, halftime’s over? Cool, hand me a beers, few of them okay?
Editor’s note: Okay, that was a big pile of suck-ass, but not something anyone didn’t see coming. When I hear announcers on ESPN calling the Saints the second best team in the NFL, I love it, absolutely love it…but…how many times you going to win on a last minute drive? Well, not every…not this week…and that’s when the status comes into question…oh, and did I mention:
So this week, the Saints go to Florida, to Tampa, where they play the Buccaneers and I swear to God, whenever I hear about this place, this Tampa…this Tampa Bay, it makes me so damned, uh, it…actually, I got nothing against Tampa Bay. Kind of like it, some good memories and such. My grandparents used to live in Tampa and I was fortunate as a youth to twice go to Tampa and see them, play in the Gulf, go to Busch Gardens and see the giraffes. For some reason I always remember the giraffes from that place and one time we went to this restaurant where, for the first time, I had frog legs. Go figure, I like frog legs, plus my grandfather, despite the faults I grew to recognize as I got older, was one of the better people I’ve ever known…hell, I’m wearing his ring right now. He was a train conductor, an artist and a good man, a baseball and hockey player and I remember he used to play this ukelele. I can still hear him singing, badly…oh, and he taught me to shoot pool, something that has come in quite handy over the years…
But wait, the Buccaneers, yeah, the Saints are going to kill ’em and I hate the Buc…
No I don’t, not really, and no wait, I know…does Ronde Barber still play for them?
Hang on..let me check…
Okay, now we’re on to something…the Saints gotta destroy the Buccaneers to spite…no, not Ronde…but his brother, Tiki!
Yeah, screw Tiki Barber, that rotten son of a bitch!
This asshole retires from the Giants and then goes on to criticize Eli Manning, calling him an ineffective leader and then…wait for it…Eli leads the Giants to a Super Bowl win! Ha! Oh, and Tiki also leaves his wife for an NBC intern because someone is obviously having a mid-life crisis and then to further prove that point, decides to un-retire, only to find out there aren’t any interested NFL teams…and he just can’t understand why…
Pick me! I know why!
How about because you’re an immature egomaniac and total locker room poison, you ass.
Hell, if my grandfather hated anyone, (which he never did far as I know), he’d hate Tiki Barber…so, okay then…
The Saints gotta win this game for the city of New Orleans, and because it will cause discomfort for Tiki Barber to see Ronde lose…and tell you what, why not win this one for my grandfather too. He was a good man, a much better man than I…unlike him, I hate all kinds of people.
Yes, I love the New Orleans Saints…but of equal important in this week’s game are the following five simple facts:
1. I hate Michael Jordan.
2. Michael Jordan is involved with the Charlotte Bobcats, located in the same city as the Panthers.
3. Micheal Jordan used to play for UNC, a college located very close to Charlotte.
4. I’m assuming that since Michael Jordan is so associated with all things North Carolina, he would be rooting for the Panthers today.
5. Did I already say I hate Michael Jordan?
Sure do, can’t stands the man, and so many reasons exist its hard to really know where to begin…but I shall try, oh yes I shall…okay, for starters, I used to work in a shoe store, back in the era of Air Jordan and the Chicago Bulls, back when these shoes were so outrageously expensive kids were killing kids for these shoes and you had Mr. Air Jordan at the time, not only saying little to nothing about it, but certainly doing nothing to work with the Nike company to lower the prices of the shoes. Nope, no way…Jordan was obviously HUGE at the time and could have applied a great deal of pressure on Nike. Yes-sir, he had to make a choice, he had to choose between being a role model, an advocating member of a community and dare I say, an activist of sorts, use his seemingly infinite celebrity for the good of humankind…or, he could play basketball, shut up so as not to cause any waves, and collect bigger and bigger endorsement checks.
He chose to get paid.
Rodney King and the riots? Same thing…if Jordan had opened his mouth and tried to speak out, tried to stop the violence, maybe it might have accomplished something, or maybe not…in any case, he said nothing, he did nothing…except to remain Teflon, remain mute, remain non-controversial, bland as bland can be so that his marketability could remain unaffected…
And turns out he needed to, what with all the gambling…oh, and the utter lack of tipping…remember those stories? One of my regulars when I was bartending in the Quarter worked the poker rooms at Harrahs and he was working a night when Jordan, Patrick Ewing and Charles Barkley came in. Jordan lost over a hundred thousand dollars gambling with his fellow all-stars for hours and the story from my regular was how Jordan tipped nothing. Ewing and Barkley gave him shit for it apparently, and Ewing actually doubled his own tips to try to make up for Jordan’s complete lack of…
Sure, tipping ain’t required of anybody, but anyone who’s ever worked in the service industry, especially in places like New Orleans, one knows those tips make all the difference in the world.
Well, I’m also from the Chicago area, as people who read this website know, and being in Chicago, Jordan’s specter still looms all over this place, like Ditka or Harry Carey and when you have the misfortune of hating all the local sports teams…Jordan’s forever presence can be pretty damned annoying, especially when you already don’t like the guy. I mean, Jesus…oh, and now I gotta deal with his whole Obama thing. His picture is freaking everywhere, another Chicagoan and in his case, one of the biggest political sell-outs of all time…like his latest, this whole crackdown on medicinal marijuana in California…what an unbelievable asshole. Bottom line on this is to simply follow the money. US Attorneys talk about California pot crops supplying the nation and how the medicinal marijuana industry is the cover?
It’s the cartels…you want to talk cover?
Blaming California as the marijuana supplier for the country is the Feds cover, it’s Obama’s cover for doing yet more favors for Big Pharma, their patent laws and profits. You see, Big Pharma has a less effective marijuana pill called Marinol, which they can patent because it’s a pill and the lab work necessary to make it a pill, makes it possible to patent, and therefore control and profit from. Medicinal marijuana, however, is a plant, a natural plant, and you can’t patent a natural plant, therefore Big Pharma cannot patent it, control it, or profit from it, therefore all the medicinal marijuana dispensaries cut into their profits from Marinol.
That is, until Obama steps in to shut down the industry, essentially doing precisely what he said as recently as two years ago, he wouldn’t do. What? Obama caves again to big money, in a campaign season? Big surprise, so what the hell else is new?
Like I said, what a duplicitous asshole.
And pictures of this jack-ass are all over Chicago, just like Jordan…the same Michael Jordan, Mr. North Carolina…and I’m sure Barack Obama, he’s at least been to the state, if not Charlotte a few times…you know, so it’s total guilt by association, by proximity…so yeah, another glorious New Orleans Saints victory today will not only be a victory for the city of New Orleans, but by proxy and a twisted sense of logic, a wondrous defeat of both Michael Jordan’s greedy, non-tipping ass, and Barack Obama’s traitorous ways which this time will keep cancer sufferers, suffering, all so Salvoy Chemical and Abbot Labs can get paid for their Marinol, a far less effective product.
So come on New Orleans, in the words of Al Davis, “Just win, baby…”