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A Prayer to the Great Chick in the Sky

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The final hours are upon us -- those stolen precious moments where the city is filled with anticipation of the second coming of the Superbowl Champions, the New Orleans Saints. Wow, still has such a nice ring. Yet, I digress...


In these last few moments of calm before we witness a near complete meltdown of the Vikings, it's now time for my pre-home-opener ritual, filled with goodies to sooth the soul from the NFL Pop-Up Shop on Magazine Street. I have my new outfit ready for the season. My Who Dat CD plays in the background, setting the ambiance. On my altar to the Great Chick in the Sky, the earthy yet light scent from my Saints reed diffuser wafts through the air, filling me with the goodness that are the Saints and everything they smell stand for.

Earlier, I bathed in my Saints bath salts, scrubbed myself down with my Saints brown sugar scrub, and painted my nails with my black and gold Saints nail polish. I lit my lucky Saints candle and placed the last pins in my Vikings voodoo dolls.

After getting centered from reading through my book of inspirational photographs of our last victory and gazing up at my Drew Brees signed poster, I am now ready to offer my most humble prayer.

On this saintly eve, I pray to thee, oh Great Chick in the Sky, for the following:


May all the children who attended the NFL's Play 60 Youth Football Festival learned the wonderful lessons that First Lady Michelle Obama, Roger Goodell, Rodney Harrison, Derrick Brooks, Deuce McAlister, and the ever-so-handsome Eddie George imparted regarding good health and exercise. All our lives depend upon it.

May everyone see the real relationship between Saints fans and Vikings fans. And, may SupaSaint show Leno the moves that only SupaSaint can do.

May all the Who Dats in Saintville commence our new Who Dat Chant in sync.

May all my most favorite players show up at Mike McKenzie's Tailgate & Party for a Purpose after they crush the Vikings, proving for one last friggin time why they are the Superbowl Champs. (Oops! Sorry for the curse, Great Chick, but you know how Vikings fans piss me off. They are just as bad as Falcons fans).

May the players exit the game as they came, uninjured (and, yes, this includes Brett Favre).

And, most of all, oh great Chick, bestow another victory on the Saints...it sure would be a good way to start the redux.

Two Dat and Amen

Mother Hen

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