Daily Special, August 6, 2012

16

 

 

Well, I’m back. And I find the place has to be mopped pretty thoroughly. Some of you have been pissing in the corners.

And I find that, true to form, all sorts of shit happens as soon as I’m away from a keyboard. Hell, I was even at the practice when Jabari Greer was hurt, and I didn’t notice a thing. I did, however, notice when Curtis Lofton and David Thomas were giving out autographs after the practice was over and someone commented on how hot it was. Lofton replied, “Could be worse. I could be an Atlanta Falcon.”

Other than that…well, you saw the Hall of Fame game. That trumps practice. But I have to say, most of my impressions from the practice we watched stand up unaltered. This team is dripping with offensive talent. You could put together an 8-8 team out of the players who are going to get cut. The defense? Not so much. Definitely “work in progress” territory. Although, they didn’t do too badly against the Cards, actually: one score in the first four drives, an ought-to-have-been safety, and with the first team offense taking the reps the score should have been 23-0 before the defense forgot how to tackle. Not bad for August.

(And parenthetically, I must ask: is there actually a single Cardinals fan who thinks it’s a bad thing that Kevin Kolb was injured?)

So, what did I get out of my sojourn? A lot of good food (finally got to go to Liuzza’s, which is as good as advertised). A trip to the zoo (the white alligator, the flightless boa, the saltwater anteater). The joints of a 90-year-old (averaging in the trips down and back, we spent probably four hours a day in the car).

And heatstroke. I haven’t been that hot since 1984, when we moved away from New Orleans. I can remember sitting in the Quarter, watching the tourists stagger down the street and snickering. Ah, the wages of hubris! I was so hot I couldn’t tell you where I got my shoes. But we came away with some more olive salad from Central Grocery, so that was good.

So, what’s going on? The Temptation of Jonathan Vilma, that’s what. Apparently, Roger’s beginning to sweat. What’s curious is this: Goodell is offering to reduce Vilma’s suspension if Vilma drops a civil suit not against the league, but against Roger Goodell. In other words: Roger isn’t acting in the interests of the NFL in making this offer, but in his own interests. I hope the owners are paying attention.

And I hope, more than anything else, that Vilma tells him to fuck off. If Vilma accepts a deal—any deal—it’s the equivalent of pleading guilty to a lesser charge. His reputation is in the toilet, and everyone else is smeared. Don’t give in, Jonathan. It’s too much fun watching Goodell sweat; now, I want to see him piss his pants. By the time you’re finished with him, I want to see his own lawyers refusing to sit on his side of the room. Go for it.

One last thing: I really enjoyed my time off. Did y’all?

On the Jukebox

A whole week of nothing but loafing. Now I have to get back to work, because I need the dough.

Posted by Himself in Daily Specials | 16 comments

16 Comments

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  • SaintsW1nAugust 6, 2012 at 11:52 am

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    Most importantly, what was the meal of choice at Liuzza’s?

    RB poboy? Frenchuletta? Fried soft shell crab?

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    • HimselfAugust 6, 2012 at 1:11 pm

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      I had the House Special, which was simply pasta and red gravy, with meatball and eggplant casserole. It was the best meatball I’ve ever eaten. It made me ashamed of my own.

      Herself had Eggplant St. John, with shrimp and artichokes, and that was the best eggplant I’ve had in years. Nothing fancy, just very, very good.

      The roast beef poboy was what I had at Short Stop, which was okay. The shrimp po-boy that Herself had was, she said, the best she’s ever eaten. (That was after the practice where Greer was hurt.)

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      • HimselfAugust 6, 2012 at 1:17 pm

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        And a side note: I never before actually heard the name pronounced. I assumed that, being Italian, it would be “lee-OOT-sas.” Nope. We heard the waitress answer the phone “lie-UH-zas.” Now that Uglesich’s is gone, that’s got to be the worst Americanized restaurant name in the city.

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        • SaintsW1nAugust 6, 2012 at 8:39 pm

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          I’ve always pronounced it “lie-OO-zuz.” Guess I’ve been doing it wrong.

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          • Doc BoudinAugust 6, 2012 at 8:42 pm

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            You and me both.

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  • Breesus Christ SuperstarAugust 6, 2012 at 12:13 pm

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    Liuzza’s: how beer will be served in heaven.
    Got a draft in a Liuzza’s frosty mug around here barkeep?

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    • Breesus Christ SuperstarAugust 6, 2012 at 5:51 pm

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      Fine, I’ll get it myself, Myself.

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      • HimselfAugust 6, 2012 at 9:15 pm

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        Ye gods, don’t try this at home! Oh, you are at home. Well, that’s why the photo didn’t load; and when I fixed it, it was 1944 x 2592 pixels! After delicate surgery, though…here’s your beer.

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        • Breesus Christ SuperstarAugust 7, 2012 at 9:09 am

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          Thanks!

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    • Doc BoudinAugust 6, 2012 at 7:15 pm

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      Back when I started dating Mrs. Boudin (early 90s), this would be our Friday night date: a frosty schooner of Liuzza’s best (which was only Coors/Coors light, but damn it tasted good in that frozen glass!), and a gigantic pile of the best fucking onion rings known to mankind. If we were still hungry, we’d split an oyster po-boy. Yes, I was a cheap date. Good times.

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      • SaintsW1nAugust 6, 2012 at 8:36 pm

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        Agree. Those onion rings are sublime.

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        • HimselfAugust 6, 2012 at 9:16 pm

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          Did any of you ever have the fried pickles?

          And why don’t I just turn this into a food blog with a Saints open thread?

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          • Doc BoudinAugust 6, 2012 at 9:30 pm

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            It’s not? Boy, is my face red.

            I love fried dills (although I never tried Liuzza’s pickles). Just like little salt licks. But with grease. Homer Simpson’s idea of the perfect vegetable. Of course, I can only eat one before heartburn from hell sets in, so I generally avoid them.

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  • saintseesterAugust 6, 2012 at 5:38 pm

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    Welcome back.

    One of my best new orleans Liuzza’s + too fecking hot memories = the time we left there, and it was too fecking hot, so I pulled off my panty hose (we wore shimmery tights in the ’80s) tossed them out the window, and they landed near a befuddled guy on a payphone (we used payphones in the ’80s).

    Go Vilma, Go. Make ‘em know the meaning of sweat.

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    • HimselfAugust 6, 2012 at 5:44 pm

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      That was you?

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  • Doc BoudinAugust 6, 2012 at 11:09 pm

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    I hope Vilma doesn’t give in as well. But I would hardly be surprised if he took a “plea bargain” of some kind. The man ain’t getting any younger, and suddenly he’s got some competition for his middle linebacker spot. How many years has he got left, really? And as many of us have pointed out in the case of Mr. Brees, what does he really owe us? I wish him the best no matter what he decides. I just hope he decides to keep rogering Roger.

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