Joke of the Day:
After he was dead, Boudreaux discovered himself in Hell. He looked around awhile, then went right to work shoveling brimstone. The devil came up to him and said, “How you like it here, my friend? It’s hard work and it’s hot, yeah?”
Boudreaux just smiled and answered, “It ain’t so bad. The work is steady. I got no problem with steady work. And it ain’t so hot. You think dis is hot? Man, I’m from south Lousiana — It hot there, my fren! Dis here ain’t nothin.” He just laughed and went back to work singing and having a high old time.
Satan, being a former Texan, did not like Cajuns. He said to himself, “I’ll get him. So he don’t mind the hot, huh?” Satan waved a hand and the whole place was suddenly ice and snow, solid. And he said, “That’ll fix dat fool!”
When he went back to check on Boudreaux, he found him jumping up and yelling and laughing and clapping and dancing. So Satan said, “Man, what’s wrong with you?!”
Boudreaux smiled big and replied, “Dem Saints done won da Super Bowl!
Super Bowl XLIV will be played in Miami, Florida, on February 7, 2010. The New Orleans Saints have a pretty good chance of playing in it, good enough at least to start planning a (fully refundable) trip. It is with such thoughts in mind that I recalled a day back around 1983 or 1984 and the famed living room on Del Norte Circle which served as the center of the sporting and culinary universe for my old asshole runnin buddies. Back in the day Zeek’s folks, Mary B and Buddha used to have a running wager with Sweet’s parents, Waldo and Mamoo. Whoever lost the Ole Miss-Tulane football game always hosted a day of gridiron and gumbo, beer and (once the ladies left) bourbon.
It so happened that year that Waldo was hosting and a young, impressionable TB was in attendance, learning quietly from Sweet the ins and outs of point spreads, the juice and teaser odds. Perhaps it is because these were the early days of my semi-residence at Del Norte that Waldo has never acknowledged my presence or perhaps it was the beer or more likely still the bourbon that has distorted his recollection. Whatever the case, the fact of my presence has become more important than ever in this year of 13-0 Saints because of what Waldo has no choice but to acknowledge: a solemn oath was made, inscribed upon a roux-stained cocktail napkin, that if and when the New Orleans Saints ever played in the Super Bowl, he would take everybody present at that moment to the game. And so I was curious about where we might travel come February. I hear Miami is nice that time of year.
The cost for Waldo? Well there’s Sweet, Zeek and Greeg which he doesn’t dispute and me, who I feel sure he will no longer deny. Maybe Rusty? A few others probably. All told we can get in the game for about $3500 apiece according to one travel site I consulted. We get three nights in a nice hotel, a ticket, a program and a ride to and from the stadium. Hmmm. I don’t think Waldo’s gonna be able to keep that vow. And I’m a reasonable man–when the oath was given tickets were probably around $75 bucks a pop. Inflation he could’ve reasonably expected but this is ridiculous. So I’ll tell you what Waldo–actually I guess Sweet will relay this to you since you aren’t hip to the web–let’s make a deal. Get with Greeg and put together a prime batch of home brew, fuel up your car–better yet let’s rent a camper–grab a random stack of your old scorecards for settling arguments and let’s all go for the weekend. We can even bring the rest of the ARB’s old and young alike. Screw the game, we’ll watch on TV and we’ll roam the streets and tan our guts and tell old lies and if we see Morten Anderson we’ll whip his ass like we should have back in ’86, and when its almost over we’ll break out the bourbon to keep it going a little bit longer.
On second thought, let’s skip the bourbon. People do stupid things when they get on the dark stuff.
And if the Saints don’t make it this year the deal’s off. I take great pleasure in hoarding that future ticket in my hip pocket.