Super Bowl Sunday is an unofficial American holiday—and the Monday after should be one too. Everywhere across this great nation, this Sunday afternoon people will turn on their bridge of the Enterprise-sized TV's, set out bushels of amber waves of grain converted to salty snack foods, crack open shining seas of booze and have family and friends over to eat like swine, drink like fish and discuss the All-American topics of organized hyperviolent entertainment (the game) and commerce (the ads).
For folks not from Indianapolis or New Orleans, though, one question must be answered: Who to support? Without a rooting interest in one team or another, the game can be as empty as watching more porn when you're all done masturbating. Sure, you might remember it later, but in the moment, it's not all it could be.
Dan's already said it from the whole gay political angle, but I'll say it too: New Orleans is America's team. Fuck the Colts. (Then Mudede can do a movie about it?)
My reasoning? Simple: which city would you rather live in? Even post-Katrina New Orleans is a better, more fun place, than Indianapolis on its best day. Food? New Orleans has the best food in the country, while Indianapolis is reputed to be the place where the Kraft Singles on Wonder Bread with Mayo sandwich was invented. Music? Jazz and Cajun v. Country and Western. History? America's true melting pot of European and African and Native American influences v. the home of the 20th Century Klu Klux Klan. Mardi Gras v. . . .well, Indy has NOTHING of the same magnitude of Mardi Gras for the sake of comparison. Yeah, New Orleans' infrastructure might have too much in the way of water and all—and Indianapolis is the largest city in the world not on a navigable waterway as its only worthy native son, Kurt Vonnegut, pointed out. But it's still all Saints for anyone with eyes or brains or a heart.
Other reasons? Peyton Manning is a soul-less robot, the Colts beat the Bears three years ago, and Indiana is the home of Notre Dame, the douchebaggiest team and fan base in all of college football, which is like being the most evil of all Nazis. It'll be a shoot-out, but if there is a God: Saints over Colts, 45-36.
I'll be liveslogging from Bruno's on Chicago's Far North Side, where we'll be living the dream: coolers full of reasonably priced booze, a Weber Grill on the sidewalk, sausages from AJ's Meats, Bari Foods, the Romanian Kosher Butcher, and other fine purveyors of encased meats. If you're reading this in Chicago, drop on by.
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