Thanks for everything, Gregg. Especially 2009. Now get the fuck out.
Think we have enough time to get a "Spagheads" movement going by September?
Now that we've gotten our little post-season pep talk out of the way, the time has come to vent. To sling around some of that sweet, sweet blame. Unfortunately, Gregg beat us to the punch and bolted before our angry mob was able to get to him and tie him down so that we could ride him out of town on a rail. Damn the luck! I'll take it though. Three years was plenty, thank you very much. Enjoy the ring, Gregg. You earned it. But I agree with you, it's time for a change. Thanks for saving Coach Payton the trouble of having to do it himself. Continue Reading…


Welp, that sure was one hell of a kick to the genitals. Again. Hey, on the bright side, look how far we've come. These days when the Saints really wind up and put one right to our collective ballsack, at least they do it in the playoffs. High five? Or something?
Welcome back, my friends, to the show that never ends. We're so glad you could attend, come inside, come inside.
Cha-ching! Who wants some?
Cha-ching! MVP! MVP! MVP!
Cha-ching, bitches! Are you smelling that Greatness? Oh, you better believe #wegotthis. WE WANT GREEN BAY! *clap clap clapclapclap*
Cha-ching! Welcome to the playoffs, bitches! TEE-BOW! TEE-BOW! TEE-BOW!
Cha-ching! How about that Pancho's Defense, bitches?!? Are you not entertained?
If you're not a regular reader of
Welp, they've got me right back where they want me. Cha-ching! Welcome to December, bitches. Shall we resume this here party?
Aaaaah. There's not a whole lot more satisfying than strutting into the Georgia Dome, bending Roddy White over, and shoving something unpleasant right up his ass. Am I right, Ray Edwards? High five!
