It takes some doing to kerfuffle both the readers of the Daily Kos and, say, Michelle Malkin, but Audi managed to do it during last night’s Super Bowl with its “Green Police” commercial. Here it is:

In precis: Cheap Trick sing a version of their insanely catchy “Dream Police” retitled “Green Police,” in which Americans are busted for using incandescent lights, requesting plastic bags at the grocery store, not composting orange parings and a host of other infractions. At the end, an Audi driver sails past a Green Police checkpoint while a title card appears: “Green has never felt so right.”

The problem is that in our black-and-white, liberal-and-conservative, spell-it-all-out world, no one seems to know whether Audi was making fun of the eco-conscious, or cheering for the eco-conscious — and without that spelled out plainly in Big Capital Letters, those on both sides of the issue could agree on one thing: They didn’t like it. (For similar suspicious, puzzled reactions from polar opposite ends of the eco-spectrum, go here and here. Bonus points if you can count the number of people who say some sort of variation on “I’ve got as much of a sense of humor as anyone, but…)

So what was the intent of the commercial? To get people talking about Audi, of course. And by that standard, it was a success. Did it make me want to buy one? No, but it did make me want to get a copy of Cheap Trick’s greatest hits.

Edited to add: Now CBS News is weighing in on the puzzlement:

Environmentalists weren’t sure whether to celebrate or denigrate the spot. Grist magazine’s David Roberts writes that at first blush it seemed like an appeal “to angry white men with the same old stereotype of environmentalists as meddling do-gooders obsessed with picayune behavioral sins.”

“The more I’ve thought about it, though, the more [that] interpretation just doesn’t quite fit,” he goes on to say. “The thrill at the end, when they guy gets to accelerate away from the crowd, turns on satisfying the green police — not rejecting or circumventing them, but satisfying their strict standards. The authority of the green police is taken for granted, never questioned. If you’re looking to appeal to mooks who think the green police are full of it and have no authority, moral or otherwise, why would you make a commercial like that?”

Conservatives also seem to be split: While Newsbusters writes, seemingly approvingly, of the spot’s “futurist vision of environmentalism running amok,” Bob Ellis called it an “downright offensive” and “presented with too much seriousness to be taken any other way than as approval of such Gestapo tactics.”

And sometimes a car commercial is just a car commercial.

It would be nice to think you might get these shoes at the Muses parade on Thursday. Terence Blanchard and Robin Burgess already have the shoe on the right, which they received yesterday, before second-lining on St. Charles Avenue after the Super Bowl. The original picture of Fats Domino and Drew Brees from last year’s Domino Effect concert is after the jump. Photos and shoes by Erika Goldring.

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If you STILL haven’t decided where to watch the game…

OR if the mere suggestion of crunk-azz brass band music before during and after the victory of the Saints Superbowl win is enough to curl your toes and make you chuck all other ill-plotted plans…

OR if you live downtown and wanna catch the the game close to home but not in the home and are looking to keep it hood simple…

OR all of the above…

Then the Goody’s on St. Claude at Louisa is what’s popping today, tonight and every Sunday night.

Opened last Thanksgiving weekend, Goody’s is the new jumping spot downtown. The restaurant bar, launched by Stooges Brass Band trombonist Garfield Bogan, features weekly performances by the Stooges and is home to the second line and brass band community as well and Bogan’s motorcycle club the Tru Riders’. The club also hosts regular poetry nights and has plans in the works to bring in other music acts such as the Baby Boys Brass Band. “New Orleans don’t really have live music on the strip,” says Bogan. “We’re about to bust the strip wide open.”

For the colossal WHO DAT! game today, Goody’s is serving free red beans and rice and fried chicken and featuring a Saint’s themed Black and Gold rum cocktail and music sets by the Stooges. The kitchen is also serving its full menu of creole soul food which has been characterized by regulars as “off the chain” (the crawfish pasta and the onion rings are the items customers were making the most noise over).

Above is a clip from a weekly set (now moved from Thursdays to Sundays at 9pm) by the house band known known for creating the most fun performances on the second line parade route. Stooges got the good good - now on the regular, stationed at Goody’s Restaurant and Bar 3200 St. Claude Ave. (504) 470-9000. Kitchen open 11am-9pm daily except for Tuesdays

We could tell you about our parade coverage (complete with pocket maps); about David Winkler-Schmit’s reporting about the Books for Prisoners program; about Clancy DuBos‘ memories of the political gadfly ‘Hippo’ Katz; about Noah Bonaparte Pais covering RJD2, Q&P Maritime Ball, Festival of the Rising Sun, Louis Moholo-Moholo, Screaming Females and the B-52’s; about Ian McNulty’s profile of the Vietnamese bakers putting their own spin on king cakes; or about our monthly health and wellness supplement, H+W.

But we all know what’s consuming us this weekend. “Glory Bound.” Do it, Aaron and Theresa:

Erik Proseus, the clever weatherman at MemphisWeather.net, worked up this forecast for the weekend:

NOAA – 01 Feb 2010 1035 EST

Outlook for the Atlantic, Caribbean and the Gulf of Mexico

Hurricane Whodat is predicted to make landfall on the South Florida coast in the vicinity of Miami on 7 Feb 2010 at approximately 2200Z (5:00 PM EST). This extremely powerful hurricane is expected to produce damaging Shockey waves and Category 5 Brees. Reports from shipping indicate that this unstoppable storm has blown a huge flock of Cardinals all the way to Arizona, and that it has sunk a replica Viking longboat, the Brettigfǻvren. Livestock, in particular young horses, will be in severe danger of being decimated….

It goes on from there. Read it all.

More national food press today, starting with The New York Times weighing in on the perfect Super Bowl party snacks. Their suggestion: fry up a batch of your own cracklings (get it? pigskins?), and writer Kim Severson goes straight to an unimpeachable source, Donald Link of Cochon Butcher, who provides a recipe for the home cook who can’t quite bring him- or herself to pop open a bag of Fritos at kickoff.

Over at The Wall Street Journal, Pervaiz Shallwani writes about newfangled cocktails, starting with a science-fiction Sazerac prepared by Chicago’s Lord High Poobah of molecular gastronomy, chef Grant Achatz:

At most bars, the Sazerac is a simple mix of whiskey, bitters and a touch of sugar. In the hands of Chicago chef Grant Achatz, the classic cocktail turns into a deconstruction of flavors: Peychaud bitters are made into pudding dots, whiskey is transformed into gelée and the “drink” is served in an edible syrup-poached kumquat.

“It’s the size of a thimble,” Mr. Achatz says. “It’s got all the classic components of a Sazerac. But you’re chewing and it’s fun.”

Note to Mr. Achatz: don’t even try serving that at a Super Bowl party. The only thing we’ll be deconstructing around here this weekend are the Colts.

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Screen grab taken from NOLA.com

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You know, I’ve had my fun taking jabs at NOLA.com and their (lack of) diverse online content, but I must say they are doing a bang-up job covering all things Super Bowl so far. Well, at least I thought as much until I saw them use a four-month-old photo taken by Jonathan Bachman on their front page (thumbnail on the bottom left-hand corner). That is, how you say?, bullshit.

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Of course, upon further examination it becomes apparent that the photo they stole from us is really a screen grab from a Saints tribute video that stole the photo from us first. Yes, that totally absolves a major metropolitan newspaper’s Web site from running an unaccredited photo from a credentialed photographer on their front page. Totally.

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Photo lifted from the fine folks at WWLTV.com

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A week after pigs flew through a Hell frozen over, the New Orleans Saints finally landed in Miami to begin on-site training for the Super Bowl. Well, most of the Saints finally arrived, that is. Six of them were already in Miami to attend the Pro Bowl, which they were voted into but (thankfully) had good reasons not to play in. At one point during the NFL Network broadcast, Michael Irvin was speaking to Jonathan Vilma and asked if he feels like he’s missing out on coming off the plane with his teammates. Vilma said it’s more important to disembark with his teammates back in New Orleans with a Super Bowl trophy.

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But what would Vilma and his five teammates do while when the rest of the squad arrived? If you think about it, it does seem like an awkward situation. All year Sean Payton and Co. have been preaching the line about team unity and effort. This Saints’ team is not about one player, or even the six that made it to the Pro Bowl. So how do you reconcile the fact that the Pro Bowlers are already in Miami because they’ve been selected as being more exceptional than their teammates? Dress them up as bellhops and greet the rest of the team when they pull up to the hotel, that’s how.

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As the stories from across the country start to pile up this Super Bowl week, one thing Saints fans will likely hear over and over is how Sean Payton is a “master motivator”. He’s a deeply cerebral student of the game and takes after his mentor, Bill Parcells, in using psychological tactics in all phases of the game. Payton, though, seems to have more of a loose streak than Parcells. This is a guy who played “Stand Up and Get Crunked” to get his players motivated in the locker room as well as giving every Saint a bat with the words “Bring the wood”. And now you see him dress up his star players as bell hops and greet the rest of the team in a move that almost certainly is meant to convey that those players wouldn’t have made it to the Pro Bowl if not for their teammates’ help.

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Now the Saints are all together and have six days to prepare for the biggest games of their lives. For a franchise that’s never been to the big game - and a city still coming to grips with their team’s new-found success - Payton sure is acting like a seasoned championship head coach. Forget that this is the Saints’ only Super Bowl appearance, Payton talks about veteran leadership and poise and he and his players will no doubt repeat the lines “we’re here to do a job” and “we have to finish strong” about one million times when asked how they’re dealing with the media spotlight.

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Being in a small market like New Orleans allows Payton and his players to somewhat fly under the radar nationally. Anyone whose worn black and gold for a game this season knows they have the undying affection of this city, so really, the trick for Payton is to keep his players focused at the task at hand, but loose enough to keep the pressure off. The New Orleans head coach just showed he can mix fun with hard work. Saints fans will love to see the hard work pay off with the party of a lifetime on Sunday.

Heading north last night, I saw a white tent off Highway 190, the sort of impromptu shelter erected to sell Louisiana produce in season or, more often, fireworks. As I passed, I saw it was neither: a sign at the edge of the highway just read “Saints.”

A couple more miles, and there was a large truck with textiles in the back and another sign: “Saints.”

And then, there it was: “Saints SuperStore,” with a fleur de lis and a font that didn’t bear any relation to the NFL. It was a temporary banner hung over the entrance to a now-defunct car dealership. Inside was all fluorescent lights and tables of merch. I pulled over.

Outside, the building was ringed with yellow Saints caution tape (a licensed NFL product? I hadn’t seen it before). Inside was the usual Saints-abilia one might see at a licensed Black and Gold store, along with some sketchier merchandise reminiscent of a roadside swap meet in Florida or Mississippi. Up front were some mighty authentic-looking jerseys ($60), along with the official NFC championship T-shirts with the little hologram tag meant to assure buyers that they were getting authentic NFL merchandise. (But if someone could counterfeit a shirt, why couldn’t they counterfeit a tag as well?) In the back of the old dealership, the salesmen’s little offices had been converted into makeshift dressing rooms.

The proprietors of the Saints SuperStore were nice, but they didn’t want photos. Too bad, because I really wanted to snap photos of all the tables with WHO DAT? DREW DAT! hoodies, black skimpy ladies’ tops with fleur de lis in gold bling, and all sorts of shirts, jackets, and outerwear with the word SAINTS on them. Among the items of more dubious provenance: a $40 Saints toilet seat and a repro silkscreened shirt of The Times-Picayune “Super Saints!” cover that looked rather…smudgy. (Ashton Phelps, you may want your lawyers to look into this.) And, more than anything else, WHO DAT everywhere. On everything.

“Get it while you can,” the woman behind the counter warned me. “If you see a design you like, it may not be here in a couple of days.”

What was their best seller?

“T-shirts. Jerseys. Beads. Wind socks. Hoodies,” she said blithely, going on to name just about every item in the store. (The fleur de lis beads were $10 a string: French Quarter prices.)

I left without buying anything, but I seemed to be the only one; plenty of shoppers were picking up Saints souvenirs. Was any of it legal? Who knows. I’m no expert in copyright law, and the NFL made that clear this week when they told us all we didn’t have any claim to a phrase that predated professional football.

But I wondered if the league’s bigfoot-bully approach to small-time New Orleans merchants made shoppers feel a little bit more justified in buying Saints merchandise that clearly wasn’t being merchandised by the Saints. If so, it was working out marvelously for the “Saints SuperStore,” now open in a defunct car dealership outside the Orleans Parish limits.