You know what, I think I can get on board with this. I've made clear the quickness with which I roll my eyes when a '28-3' joke is made. It's a make-or-break year in New Orleans, and I am much more concerned with making sure this recurring 7-9 nightmare isn't actually a curse in disguise. So no, I don't particularly care that the Falcons spent billions of dollars on a retractable anus that is too constipated to work properly, or that they accidentally trolled the tastebuds of the few fans whose voices aren't artificial piped in by putting an inoperable Chuck-Fil-A on their own damn concourse. The Saints are going to need to prove to me that they - themselves - aren't a laughing stock before I turn to the futility of the franchise that appears to be ripe for a Super Bowl hangover as a source of humor.
That said, if you can effortlessly fit a joke about your rival's historical incompetence into your everyday life then you almost have to do it, right? Knowing Atlanta, this server was probably not only below average, but also didn't give a damn about the Falcons. That's why turning her slightly sub-20% tip into a gratuitous joke at the expense of her hometown comes off as more situationally aware than comically incompetent. You start reaching for half-ironic placements of the numbers 28, 3, or 25 and you show your lack of wit pretty quickly. However, if you are put in a position where you absolutely have to do math then it might as well add up to the demise of Matt Ryan.