I’ve always had something of a soft spot for both “The City of New Orleans” and the city of New Orleans, despite the fact that my only trip to the actual place happened when I was well younger than the approved drinking age. (They probably would have sold me a Hurricane at one of the walk-up bars, but I couldn’t see over the counter.) And thus the fallout from last night’s epic Vikings loss to the Saints, for me, is tri-fold: there’s the standard Minnesotan reaction that mixes fan pride, team-related self-loathing and Scandinavian resignation in equal measure; its ever-so-slight tempering by the fact that the loss benefited New Orleans and not, say, the Packers or Kurt Warner or Jerry Jones or any of the other more detestable NFC foes; and the fact that John Prine singing “The City of New Orleans” will be stuck in my head for the next two weeks.

That last part’s pretty okay, though it’s not quite gonna make up for the gut-punch level of the loss. And if every single skill-position Viking isn’t required to spend the entire offseason carrying a football everywhere they go — and if the citizenry of Minnesota doesn’t try to knock those footballs out, every time, so they can get some damn not-fumbling practice — it’s going to be a failed offseason in my book.

Football aside, it was an epically terrible sports weekend, so I shall focus on better things. Like booze, a front on which we won many battles this weekend.

To wit: I got to sample a whole ass-ton of great beers, both on draught and in bottles*; we discovered that Zipp’s, our only local source for Wray & Nephew Overproof rum, is also our new local source for Ron del Barrilito; I did some volunteer bottling for the upcoming Upper Mississippi Mashout; I’ve almost finalized my recipe for the Magnificent Bastard Cocktail Contest; and we collectively managed to get through nearly 1/4 of our mission of drinking the entire 101-entry shot list at Stub’s. (It is much easier when you have six people at the bar for five hours, we found out.)

(*Get thee to Stub and Herb’s, beer nerds, for the Dark Horse 4 Elf Winter Warmer ASAP. They have one of the two kegs of it in Minnesota. Try the Furthermore Knot Stock while you’re at it, and then get over to Zipp’s for bottles of the Goose Island Bourbon County Stout.)

So, clearly, all was not a total loss this weekend, and this is also shaping up to be a sports-therapeutic Monday. Work is unstrenuous, and this evening, while Jenni embarks on her new letterpress class, I will be indulging in rum, taxes and leftovers before we catch last night’s Iron Chef and tonight’s Top Gear season premiere. This, I believe, is a fine way to usher in post-football life in Minnesota — as the man once said, the season will be gone five hundred miles when the evening’s done.

ETA: Damn, I nearly forgot the most important thing! Bally B. Basketball, our new orange friend, arrived at our house last week. He is cute and orange and says ‘Boing!’ He is also the official mascot of The Mid-Majority, which you should damn well be reading if you’re not already.