Today concludes our week-long NFC Championship celebration. Cafe 641 recommends a morning dose of vitamins.
1. Start with a heart-felt read about a surfer kid.
2. Then brace yourself for this.
3. Finally, remember what the Upper Terrace looked like. And why you're blessed to call it family.
Tomorrow, it's Super Bowl week. Join us in prayer at the Buddy D. Dress Rehearsal & 'Stache Dash.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Friday, January 29, 2010
NFL to Archdiocese of New Orleans: "Cease & desist all reference to Saints"
I don't know what all the fussin' is about. Really. Listen carefully to what Roger's crack legal team is saying, and you'll learn something about yourself.
When Brian "The Scrote" McCarthy says, “We have enforced our rights in the mark Who Dat against companies that were making attempts to trade off the Saints’ goodwill and mislead fans to mistakenly believe the Saints were somehow affiliated or endorsed the product,” he reminds you that you would never buy merchandise if you didn't know it was properly endorsed. I mean, seriously, who wears independent, locally-owned gear? That's just tacky. And, thankfully, now illegal.
Listen even more carefully, and you'll start to feel a lot better. When the NFL says, "any combination of design elements (even if not the subject of a federal or state trademark registration), such as team colors, roman numerals and other references to the Saints," they're just reminding you of how much they've already given to this city:
1. Before 1967, New Orleans had no connection with the term "Saints." In fact, the NFL gave us a rich Catholic tradition by anointing our professional football team with that name. Your mama mighta been Catholic, but did she really understand the meaning of All Saints Day until November 1, 1966? Chew on that when the second collection plate is passed on Sunday, and say a special prayer for Monsignor Goodell.
2. While you may have claimed a special connection to the ubiquitous fleur de lis ever since you departed your mama's womb, it was the appearance of the icon in black and gold on a football helmet that made you "Proud to Call It Home." Your welcome, New Orleans.
Me? I'm all down for copyrights, trademarks, and patents. You wanna see a copyright? I've got your copyright. Right. Here.
When Brian "The Scrote" McCarthy says, “We have enforced our rights in the mark Who Dat against companies that were making attempts to trade off the Saints’ goodwill and mislead fans to mistakenly believe the Saints were somehow affiliated or endorsed the product,” he reminds you that you would never buy merchandise if you didn't know it was properly endorsed. I mean, seriously, who wears independent, locally-owned gear? That's just tacky. And, thankfully, now illegal.
Listen even more carefully, and you'll start to feel a lot better. When the NFL says, "any combination of design elements (even if not the subject of a federal or state trademark registration), such as team colors, roman numerals and other references to the Saints," they're just reminding you of how much they've already given to this city:
1. Before 1967, New Orleans had no connection with the term "Saints." In fact, the NFL gave us a rich Catholic tradition by anointing our professional football team with that name. Your mama mighta been Catholic, but did she really understand the meaning of All Saints Day until November 1, 1966? Chew on that when the second collection plate is passed on Sunday, and say a special prayer for Monsignor Goodell.
2. While you may have claimed a special connection to the ubiquitous fleur de lis ever since you departed your mama's womb, it was the appearance of the icon in black and gold on a football helmet that made you "Proud to Call It Home." Your welcome, New Orleans.
Me? I'm all down for copyrights, trademarks, and patents. You wanna see a copyright? I've got your copyright. Right. Here.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
NFL to New Orleans Child: "Cease & Desist!"
God, I wish Ashley were here. He'd know exactly what to say. I'm still bewildered by this morning's turn of events:1. 7-year-old daughter (the Who Dat formerly known as Super Saint Girl) wakes up this morning just after 7 a.m.
"Chef, I had a nightmare."
"I'm sorry, baby. You okay?"
"Yeah, because I told all the robbers I would give them copies of my Sean Payton autograph."
"What?"
"Sean Payton. In my dream. He was driving a red car down our street with Drew Brees. I ran out and yelled, 'Stop!' And then I got his autograph on a white paper. Drew Brees too. But then a bunch of robbers chased me inside the house. I locked the door quick. And I told them to go away, but they all wanted my Sean Payton autograph. So I told them I had a scanner and I would scan the autograph and make them all copies. Then I did. And they all left."
2. A few minutes after 8 a.m., the phone rings. It's a legal representative of the National Football League. They inform me that my daughter has been issued a cease and desist for unlicensed use of a trademarked dream.
Bastards. We are who we think we are. Sinn Fein.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Buddy D Dress Rehearsal & 'Stache Dash
The stars and staches have aligned. In August, the Dash for the 'Stache gave us powerful mustaches. In October, the Dash to Dismantle the NY Discount Airliners shamed a Dirty Sanchez. In November, cats were cut.
On Sunday, Jan. 31, Cafe 641 sponsors its final bicycle pub crawl of the season: the Buddy D Dress Rehearsal & 'Stache Dash. Decorate your bike in Black & Gold, throw on a dress, grab a mustache at the Vieux Carre Hair Shop on Maple Street in the Riverbend, and contribute to our Super Bowl ritual. We'll pay tribute to Buddy D. at his Metairie Cemetery gravesite, stop for beers and prayers, and slap on mustaches at the Superdome.
DETAILS
11:30 a.m. - 12:30 p.m.: Assemble at Mid City Bulldog.
12:30 p.m.: Roofbanger's Creed & depart Bulldog on bikes.
1 p.m.: Hail Buddy D Dress Rehearsal Service at Buddy's gravesite with officiants Dilly/Berto. (Bring contribution to Buddy D. shrine.)
Around 3 p.m.: Arrive at Finn McCool's.
Around 4 p.m.: Blessing of the Mustaches at Superdome Gate A. (Bring your mustache.)
Following Superdome: Bike ride down Bourbon Street.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Have You Seen My Pants?
Woke up from a nap this afternoon to the screech of tires. Walked outside to see what appeared to be some Twin Cities version of high fashion discarded on the crosswalk in front of my house. Is this what they mean by "Favre's pants on the ground?"
In other oracle-related news, Michael Homan secured dirt today from the Mississippi home of an aging Free Range Wrangler. It will become, he says, the foundation of something potent.
In other oracle-related news, Michael Homan secured dirt today from the Mississippi home of an aging Free Range Wrangler. It will become, he says, the foundation of something potent.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Is Skol a Nordic Synonym for Stool?
Wang's archive gives us a concise breakdown of the Saints vs. Vikings.
We might also look to an analysis of tribute songs:
VIKINGS
Thank god for Minneseauxta's proclivity for the electric guitar; otherwise we might never hear these pearls.
SAINTS
Who Dats have to settle for K. Gates, Dee-One, Shamarr Allen, Sick Like Sinatra, and Dappa.
Damn. We win. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again.
Oh, yeah. The menu board is open. We'll be featuring an entire block of Favre specials, so lean heavy on those. Also requested are menu items for: Visagoth Shiancoe, Adrian Peterson, Sidney Rice, Bernard Berrian, Percy Harvin, Jared Allen, Pat Williams, Antoine Winfield, Ryan Longwell, Brad Childress.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Of Horns, Beans, & Birds
A few Saturday observations from the Cafe:
1. Walking the Upper Terrace concourse past Section 635, we noticed a crowd of about 30, mostly men, chanting and holding cameras above their heads to flash photos. Are you kidding? We're thirty minutes to kickoff, a drunken Red Bird is tit peddlin' for beads, and ya'll are gonna stop for this? Turns out it was only Joseph Horn, reppin' a Deuce McAllister jersey, stopping for every photo and autograph request. The Porn Chef dropped a "Braising Arizona" menu on him and we made our way to the top of the Cafe. Then, just before kickoff, I look down to see that Joe is sitting about twenty rows down in Section 640. Done. I've got some words for Joe, been waiting to spit 'em for three years now, and if he's around in the third quarter and the autograph/photo cycle thins, I'm gonna get my face time.
"Joe, don't want to take a photo with you or get an autograph. Just wanted to tell you a few things. First, when the storm hit, I evacuated to Texas. Ya'll were in San Antonio. And I read what you said about the city then. Thank you."
"Second, Joe. I wanted to tell you that yours was the first Saints jersey I ever bought."
"And last, Joe, do you remember three years ago when you said that you would rip your strained groin muscle off the bone if it meant you would play in the Philly game?"
"Well that inspired me, Joe. I was so inspired, Joe, that I took your groin and smoked it into a groin jerky and put it on my playoff menu, Joe."
I wanted to add that before that same Philly game, I wrapped my own groin in an Ace bandage, sprinted up the 42 rows to the top of the Cafe, and ripped off the bandage to reveal a Slim Jim groin jerky. But I had forgot about that. But, Joe, he was cool with all that.
2. Nothing tops face time with Joe, but hosting the fiance of one Beanie Wells and his future brother-in-law, wasn't bad either. Alex, Beanie's fiance, was seated in the Cafe in Row 43 and thus privy to numerous dirty dogs. Beautiful, polite girl. And Beanie scored a touchdown, so that was nice. Her younger brother is shown here with the Hot Girlz of Cafe 641: Ms. Shootz to Kill, The Entity, and the Cocktail Chef.
1. Walking the Upper Terrace concourse past Section 635, we noticed a crowd of about 30, mostly men, chanting and holding cameras above their heads to flash photos. Are you kidding? We're thirty minutes to kickoff, a drunken Red Bird is tit peddlin' for beads, and ya'll are gonna stop for this? Turns out it was only Joseph Horn, reppin' a Deuce McAllister jersey, stopping for every photo and autograph request. The Porn Chef dropped a "Braising Arizona" menu on him and we made our way to the top of the Cafe. Then, just before kickoff, I look down to see that Joe is sitting about twenty rows down in Section 640. Done. I've got some words for Joe, been waiting to spit 'em for three years now, and if he's around in the third quarter and the autograph/photo cycle thins, I'm gonna get my face time.
"Joe, don't want to take a photo with you or get an autograph. Just wanted to tell you a few things. First, when the storm hit, I evacuated to Texas. Ya'll were in San Antonio. And I read what you said about the city then. Thank you."
"Second, Joe. I wanted to tell you that yours was the first Saints jersey I ever bought."
"And last, Joe, do you remember three years ago when you said that you would rip your strained groin muscle off the bone if it meant you would play in the Philly game?"
"Well that inspired me, Joe. I was so inspired, Joe, that I took your groin and smoked it into a groin jerky and put it on my playoff menu, Joe."
I wanted to add that before that same Philly game, I wrapped my own groin in an Ace bandage, sprinted up the 42 rows to the top of the Cafe, and ripped off the bandage to reveal a Slim Jim groin jerky. But I had forgot about that. But, Joe, he was cool with all that.
2. Nothing tops face time with Joe, but hosting the fiance of one Beanie Wells and his future brother-in-law, wasn't bad either. Alex, Beanie's fiance, was seated in the Cafe in Row 43 and thus privy to numerous dirty dogs. Beautiful, polite girl. And Beanie scored a touchdown, so that was nice. Her younger brother is shown here with the Hot Girlz of Cafe 641: Ms. Shootz to Kill, The Entity, and the Cocktail Chef.
3. Row 43's deconstructed Chaffed Redbird installation should be the next acquisition of the New Orleans Museum of Art's Sculpture Garden.
4. Porn Chef's sports hernia, a common injury in his industry, did not stop him from dropping a dog in the third quarter.
5. There is no finer family the one we've got in Cafe 641. Only about half are featured here (plus Mr. Rita Benson LeBlanc's Cardinal-loving sister).
Monday, January 18, 2010
A Chef in Love
More on an intimate moment with Joe Horn that referenced emotions about the federal flood and groin jerky all in the same sentence, followed by repeated hospitable exchanges with Alex, the fiance of Beanie Wells, later. But right now, the entire world needs to know . . .
. . . I love this woman. She's shybe.
. . . I love this woman. She's shybe.Friday, January 15, 2010
Sunday, January 10, 2010
13 Ways to Cook a Cardinal
So it will be redbird with a side of Whizzenhunt sauce. But how best to prepare the Arizona Cardinal?Air-Popped? as in "a deflated Warner"
Refried? as in "Would you like a side of Refried Beanie with that?"
Tootsied? as in "Black and Gold Super Bowl, we're gonna tootsie your Rolle!"
Flash-fried? as in "a quarterback pressured preparation of a Fitzgerald"
The menu suggestion board is now open.
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