Is it a little Brees-y in here?

No, I didn’t spell that word wrong. That’s a clever use of someone’s surname. If you recall I live in New Orleans, then you’ll know I’m talking about the New Orleans Saints’ MVP Quarterback Drew Brees. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, then move on to the next entry. I’m here to finally weigh in on the events of the last month or so – give or take a few days.

Since I’m not your typical (American) football fan, I will err on the side of brevity in this post. People born and raised here became defacto fans simply because we’ve tried for so long and this year was actually our chance. The days leading up to the Superbowl, I kept saying, “Of course I’d like for them to win it, but even if they don’t, that’s okay because at least we can say we made it this far.”

For those of you who cheered us on in the Superbowl, I thank you. Our whole city thanks you and you’re welcome to visit any time. We’ll welcome you with open arms. For those of us who refer to Superbowl XIV as “the game the Colts lost” rather than “the game the Saints won”, you can kiss my ass. Just because you have a problem with the least among us finally winning, doesn’t mean shit.

I think I’m still recovering from Mardi Gras. It was the longest celebration since I don’t know when. I made the mistake of trying to attend the Saints parade and left because I was frustrated at the rudeness of people. It seems we’re fully capable of being kind to others, but not to our own. Go figure.

Mardi Gras was the true party it is meant to be this year. We partied from the night the Saints won til Fat Tuesday, but I’m sure no one woke up Ash Wednesday and repented of any sinning they’d done the two weeks before. Rather, they would have attended their churches and praised God for finally delivering them from the wilderness much as he did Moses. Forty days…. forty years… it’s all the same isn’t it?

The celebrations finally drew to a close on Saturday, February 20, when there was a traditional jazz funeral for the Aints. That’s who we were in the 80s. Bag heads and all. No longer will we cover our heads in shame for we have arrived at the promised land and seen our glory.