Unless you have been living under a rock, you know that the New Orleans Saints are going to the Superbowl! You also know that the Saints have never been to the Superbowl; the franchise was once so bad that fans would wear paper bags over their heads to home games. And you surely remember that the city of New Orleans doesn’t have gills, and thus has suffered some tragedy in the recent past.
City still recovering from tragedy + Beloved football team + Superbowl – Open container laws = Mass freaking hysteria. Children are skipping school, adults are having their stomachs pumped, and judges are playing along.
If Alabama lawyers asked for a motion to continue because their team made the BCS National Championship Game, you can best believe that New Orleans attorneys will not be working that hard around Superbowl time. Civil District Court Judge Michael G. Bagneris just made it official.
Read the judge’s order to respect the Saints (and grant a continuance) after the jump.
Judge Bagneris’ order was clear and eloquent:
Judicial notice of “Saintsmania” is pretty awesome. And I’m pleased that Judge Bagneris correctly weaved “Who Dat Nation” into his order.
The order granted a week’s continuance. I wonder if that will be enough time. If they win, that city might be in danger of suffering a major earthquake.
Indianapolis, what have you got? Sure, you’ve been there and done that and Broadripple isn’t exactly Bourbon Street. But come on, how about you let Peyton Manning audible out of any criminal sentence he doesn’t like for a week?
UPDATE: For additional Who Dat controversy, click here.
Earlier: Best. Motion to Continue. Ever.
Zeroth
“And you surely remember that the city of New Orleans doesn’t have gills, and thus have suffered some tragedy in the recent past.”
Seriously?
3 got cut from the football team in HS
3 = turd in the punch bowl
Shout-out to Buddy Diliberto.
WHO DAT.
–Squirrel
Am I the only one who has an uncontrollable urge to have sex with fresh grouper when ever it is around?
Judge is simply being realistic. No one is going to want to be there, probably even the plaintiff. Hardly discipline worthy or an abuse of discretion, considering its only a week.
Didn’t New Orleans steal the “who dat” chant from Cincinnati?
WHO DEY?
Hello Friends,
I am considering quitting my job as a software programmer to become a writer. Since you guys are lawyers, I figured you might be able to tell me if I have a shot. Here is the prologue for my zombie novel. Let me know what you think…
ZOMBAPOCOLYPSE — The Epic Saga of a War against Zombies
When I was growing up, I remember thinking that demons and dragons were the most frightening creatures on the planet. I know better now. Looking into those yellow eyes as the deafening chant grows louder and louder, I know what fear is. I learnt that lesson as a 15 year old teenager.
When I was 10 years old, my mother was taken from me and my twin sister. It was an accident they said, she was outside the compound as nightfall was approaching and she just dropped off the grid. No one was willing to search for her due to the dangers of being outside the compound at night. Twenty foot walls topped with razor wire fence gave us the security to live a somewhat normal lifestyle. I never knew my father. From the hints my mother occasionally dropped and the gossip going on, I came to the conclusion that he was a real Casanova who would move from compound to compound to seduce and impregnate as many women as he possibly could. I was better off without him and had fantasized about heating up a meat cleaver until it became red and slicing off his most precious organ like a culling blade. As a result, my twin and I were put in the care of another family living in the compound.
The Rothsteins, despite being Jews, were the most amazing family anyone could wish for. They treated me and my sister like one of their own. It would have been perfect except for their brat son Joey. He took every opportunity to berate us with the merciless cruelty of a child. He would call us “undesirable orphans” and told us that if he was our father, he would have also left us a long time ago too. My twin and I looked out for each other and we would spend hours in our 4 x 4 room crying over how much his comments hurt.
Three years later all of that changed. We were early developers and Joey wanted to spend a lot more time with us. He didn’t call us names anymore and was more than willing to help us with anything we asked him for. We would have appreciated it a lot more except it turned out that all the boys in the compound were willing to help us with anything we asked them for. I didn’t understand it then, but I certainly know why they were so willing now.
When I was 15, my sister and I were summoned by the compound leaders into the holding cell area. The holding cell area was where we kept all of the zombies, so we could run insane tests on them to figure out what made them tick and ultimately get more proficient at fighting them. I found these tests disgusting but ultimately necessary in order to gain an edge. We met with the leaders and they took us to cell F112. Inside was a spitting image of my mother with yellow eyes and bloodstained teeth. She was banging against the glass walls and was chanting what sounded like “ZOMBIE ZOMBIE ZOMBIE” over and over. The compound leader Ralph looked at us and said “we captured her late last night”. We both started crying.
He informed us of the real reason that we were there.
“We have been working on a drug that has been shown to reverse the Zombie mutation. We call it Phytophankton 4.”
I looked at my mother skeptically. She had just banged her head against the glass wall again.
“Really?” I said.
“Absolutely” he responded. Using the chains that she was in to restrain her, he went in the room and administered the injection.
For a moment her yellow eyes turned white and her ash color skin paled back to its normal state. As fleeting as it had been the effects of the drug wore off and my mother returned to her zombified physical form. She was more docile now though and wasn’t chanting at all. Ralph took her hand in his and held it there for a few moments as if it was some sort of test. He then decided to release the chains. My mother was chainless and free standing there right in front of Ralph. She didn’t move, she just blinked.
“Mara and Sara, come in here.” Ralph said
We walked in the room and hugged our mother tightly, it felt so good to see what looked like her again after all these years. She just blinked like she didn’t know what was going on. She didn’t move much and just looked around.
Ralph tried talking to her.
“Hello, Helen how have you been.”
“Remember me? I’m Ralph, we’ve been friends for 10 years.”
Nothing happened, she just looked around, bored and sad.
“At least she’s not banging her head against the wall.” Ralph remarked.
“I think one good way to jog her memory is to let her be alone with a loved one to bring back the emotions that made her human.” Ralph suggested.
Mara volunteered herself. After all she was always Mom’s favorite.
We moved our mother to an observation room when Mara went in and Ralph and I observed from the sidelines.
Mara sat down at the table across from our mother and said “Mommy it’s me, Mara.”
There was no response. My mother was staring at the floor
“Mommy, we missed you so much during the last five years.”
There was no response.
Mara reached across the table and took my mother’s hand in hers. My mother stopped staring at the floor looked at Mara and blinked. Mara took it as a sign of recognition. Holding her hand she got up from the table and went over and gave my mother a huge hug. As she held her, she started sobbing.
“Come back to us mommy, we need you in our lives. We need you.” she pleaded
My mother looked down at Mara and slowly moved her head toward her as if to kiss her cheek or her forehead. Then she opened her mouth and bit a chunk off of Mara’s cheek.
Mara started screaming. My mother reached down, grabbed Mara’s arm and using that as leverage flung her against the wall. Mara hit the wall head first, the force from the blow was enough to snap her neck and kill her. Mara was dead.
“Looks like Phytophankton 4 was a failure.” Ralph mused sadly.
I started crying. I had just lost my twin sister and best friend.
My mother started chanting in the observation room.
“ZOMBIE, ZOMBIE, ZOMBIE”
As her screams got louder, she started banging the walls of the room. I made a decision.
“My mother has been dead to me for five years. Let’s make it final.” I said to Ralph.
“As you wish.” Ralph responded and handed me his pistol.
I walked into the room as a 15 year old girl. I looked my mother in the eyes, pointed the gun at her and gently squeezed the trigger.
“Sorry mommy.” I said to myself. I learnt a valuable lesson. Zombies cannot be turned, they can only be destroyed. I walked out a woman.
After this experience, Joey and I became very close. He consoled me about losing my sister and listened to what I had to say. We became best friends and romantically involved. He gave me my first kiss, my first sexual experiences and was the only person in the world that I truly loved. We were high school seniors at 17 and prom was coming up. Joey asked me to go with him and I said of course.
That night we danced the night away and I made love for the first time. It was wonderful.
A few days later, Joey had to go on his first raid. All males at the compound were required to go on raids using a rotation system. Outside the many compounds of the world, humanity had perished but there was still food in these ghost towns. The compound could only store enough food to feed everyone inside for 2 months so every 2 weeks four or five guys would go on their hovercrafts into towns and raid the pantry’s of grocery stores bringing back as much food as they could. I heard these raids were mostly enjoyable and resulted in male bonding as long as they didn’t run into any zombies.
I kissed Joey and wished him good luck jokingly adding “bring something nice back for me.” Many of these raids resulted in souvenirs being brought back: key chains and pornography being the top two souvenir items.
“You got it.” Joey said confidently and I watched him ride out with 4 other guys at the compound.
Three hours later the men had returned but there was no sign of Joey. I went to talk to Ralph about it.
“Sorry about this but there was an attack during the raid and Joey has become infected. He’s become one of them. We are currently holding him in Cell G119.”
I started crying again. Everyone in my life has been robbed from me.
After the incident, many boys in the compound were willing to be my shoulder to cry on, but I just brushed them off. I started thinking about the entire situation. The bottom line was regardless of the fact that Joey was sitting in Cell G119, he was dead to me and everyone else. My main worry was being a test subject for Phytophankton 5. I was not going to let that happen to me. All adults in the compound carry a gun given at a certain age based on availability and seniority. I started looking around the Rothstein house for the one that they had. The Rothstein’s were never around, immersing themselves in the compound society, as a way to mourn their loss. After searching for a few minutes, I found the gun.
With the gun on me, I went to cell block G and seduced the idiot guard by telling him that if he let me slide this one time, he might have a future with me. I was let in immediately. I quickly found cell G119 where an ash colored yellow eyed Joey was chained to the wall. I opened the cell door and looked at the only person I loved and at that moment I knew what fear was. Fear was losing everyone you loved. Fear was being completely alone in the world. Demons and dragons didn’t scare me anymore.
“Sorry Joey.” I sighed. I pointed the gun at his head and pulled the trigger. The other zombies didn’t react as they were chained to the wall and the guard, whose name I think was Miles, just looked the other way. I left Joey there chained to the wall as dead and lifeless as my heart and walked out.
The next day Miles told the compound leaders that he had fallen asleep and someone had sneaked past him. He got ten lashes on his ass with a metal tipped whip for his incompetence. “Stupid fuck” I thought. After he had taken his punishment, I rejected all of his advances and challenged him to change his story knowing the he wouldn’t.
I was now 21 with a good head on my shoulders and was a rising star among the compound leaders. I had no baggage, no love in my heart and only one purpose. Re-take the world for man kind by destroying Zombies everywhere.
The Who Dat chant is as sad as NO itself.
It’s Broad Ripple, dipshit.
GO HORSE!
promiseD land
13: the trial was actually moved to tuesday, Feb 9. to allow for the Who Dat pilgrim’s return from Miami.
Wonder which party to this lawsuit is paying the way for the judge to go to Miami for the game?
Peyton Manning is the most overrated quarterback in the history of the NFL.
23. What. The Hell. Are you smoking?
–Elie
16 -
According to that link, Cincinnati began using it in 1981; New Orleans began using it in 1983. I submit that you are the idiot.
14
This judge, while cool, is an idiot. There are ~5 spelling and punctuation errors in this order.
Was this done ex parte? Sua sponte?
How is that city still “recovering?” How many hurricanes have there been since 2005? I live in Houston and I stopped hearing about Ike when the power came back on. The ghettos that haven’t been rebuilt can be attributed to lack of appropriate homeowner’s insurance and/ or the fact that most of those homeowners now live in Houston and Dallas.
The Louisiana Supreme Court Committee on Bar Admissions is not as compassionate as Judge Bagneris.
“Regardless of the activities scheduled on Sunday, February 7, 2010, the Louisiana Bar Examination will be held as scheduled on Monday, February 8, 2010.”
The Louisiana Supreme Court Committee on Bar Admissions is not as compassionate as Judge Bagneris.
“Regardless of the activities scheduled on Sunday, February 7, 2010, the Louisiana Bar Examination will be held as scheduled on Monday, February 8, 2010.”
26 –
Clearly you’ve never met or argued in front of Judge Bagneris. He isn’t exactly the sharpest tool, and if his nomination to thhe EDLA ever gets taken up, the EDLA bench will become a tad bit less educated.
18 and 28 – All you have accomplished with your comments is expose yourselves as both ignorant and pathetic.
18 and 28 – All you have accomplished with your comments is expose yourselves as both ignorant and pathetic.
18 and 28 – All you have accomplished by posting those comments is expose yourselves as both ignorant and pathetic.
31, I don’t understand. 26 has never met or argued in front of Judge Bagneris because he claims the judge is an “idiot,” when in fact he is not the “sharpest tool.” That seems to be a distinction without a difference.
-not 26
“The order granted a week’s continuance. I wonder if that will be enough time. If they win, that city might be in danger of suffering a major earthquake.”
Too soon for earthquake jokes Elie.
It’s unfortunate for Louisiana Bar applicants that they have to sit for the exam the next day. We will have three more weeks to recover our victory before the Indiana Bar.
Go Horse!
Also, the poster that said Peyton was overrated should be reprimanded for utter stupidity. Any rational NFL fan recognizes that Peyton will be (likely already is) in the top 3 QBs of all time. I, of course, believe him to be the best ever.
The saying “Go Horse” is stupid on so many levels:
Colt ≠ Horse;
one is singular, the other is plural; and
it just sounds dumb.
25: maybe before you start bashing other people for not reading the whole article, you should do so yourself. if you do, you will see that the “who dat” chant was used in the 1960s by new orleans high schools and colleges, well before the bengals.
Who Dat?!?!?!! Saints all the way.
This means more to the Saints fans than it does/would for any other team. So all you haters, Who Dat?!?!?!
Who Dat Gon’ Beat Dem Saints?
The Colts! Dat’s who!!!
Go Colts!!
hasn’t the recession eliminated the city of indianapolis yet? there wasn’t much there to begin with.
Am I the only one who wants to order an advance copy of 15’s book?
44 — I was thinking the same thing! Elie needs to give this writer a column STAT
I agree… 15’s stuff is way better than that My Job is Murder Crap…
- Poisonous Frog from Cell G119 Secure
There needs to be a writing contest between 15 and the author of YOU WILL BE KILL BY THE DEMONS
13 and 36: actually, the problem is that they moved it from right before the Super Bowl to right after the Super Bowl and in the middle of Mardi Gras…
Hello,
This is 15. Thanks for the support and I am fully aware that this is an extremely tough crowd so it is doubly encouraging.
Hello,
This is 15. Thanks for the support and I am fully aware that this is an extremely tough crowd so it is doubly encouraging.
seriously not bad, 15.
seriously not bad, 15.