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Celebrating Super Bowl XLVII… and Goodell

To paraphrase Dr. John, such a weekend!

From the Westbank to New Orleans to Slidell, Carnival officially kicked into high gear these past few days as 19 krewes rolled, celebrating everything from lions and dogs, to Wookies and Greek gods… even Mona Lisa & Moon Pies.

But, now it stops. For nine days. Because the Super Bowl is coming to town. I’d rather have Santa Claus.

Still, I’m going to be a team player and make sure I look all nice and gentlemanly for the Ravens and 49ers. For the next week, I’ll sit up straight. Tuck my shirt in.  Might even wear socks.

Admit it. You’ll do the same thing. Why? Because we’re all in love with the City of New Orleans. And when the one you love asks you to look nice in front of 120,000 strangers, you do it. No matter the inconvenience.

Besides, there are a few reasons to celebrate Super Bowl XLVII. I count three.

First, it’s a party. Oh sure, we’re not officially invited, but when has that stopped us? If you live in New Orleans, you’re automatically invited to any party, anywhere, any time. It’s just the way we roll. And what’s a NOLA party without a fest? Super Bowl Boulevard is a four-day festival that features 49 bands, 12 parades, and 54 dishes of food. I don’t know about you, but I’ll celebrate any Thursday that let’s me hang out by the river while eating a Po’ Boy, drinking an Abita and listening to Amanda Shaw.

Second, this party is NOT for Atlanta. Super Bowl XLVII isn’t easy for New Orleans. But it would have been hell on Earth if the Falcons were playing. Fortunately, dat won’t happen. Once again, the gods have shown their supreme wisdom and reminded us that, when it comes to football, the Saints have Super Bowl rings. And the Falcons? Well, I guess they have, what? Onion rings?

Finally, let me suggest that there is even reason to celebrate the fact that Roger Goodell is coming to town. I know, I know. We was robbed. Free Sean Payton — before the season, not after it. But hear me out. Think about it. For one entire week, every time a plate of food is put down in front of him, the good Commissioner has to wonder if there isn’t some, shall we say, lagniappe, in his étouffe. Perhaps, as a local restaurant owner suggested to The New York Times, Goodell will bring a taster. If we’re really lucky, that taster will be… from Atlanta.

To read a related article written by Taylor, visit