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Where y’at, Flying Brian?

Holy….. shit. I am speechless. I am without speech.

If you don’t regularly read Ralph Malbrough’s Forecast column over at WWLTV dot com, you should. Ralph doesn’t pull any punches, his columns are substantive, and most of the time he makes a ton of sense. But occasionally, Ralph goes completely off the reservation. And that’s always big fun, because it allows me to give him shit about it.

Ralph seems a bit pissed off right about now because… this just in: Tom Benson ain’t exactly the long lost bastard brother of George Steinbrenner. Shocking but true.

The cramps seem to have been caused by Mickey Loomis’ recent poormouthing in the Times-Picayune. The bloating is due to Jay Glazer’s report that Sean Payton gave up $250,000 of his salary so that the organization could give it to Gregg Williams. Hey, those things would piss me off too if I took them at face value. Fortunately for us, it’s likely that both are DAMNABLE LIES!!!! 

Well, it appears that yet another offseason is officially in full swing. I’m proud to announce that my testicles are almost back to full strength after the annual four month autumn beating they took. Bless you boys, indeed. There’s still a bit of swelling and discoloration, and you can still barely make out "Love, Marteen" on one of them, but for the most part, the topical cream seems to have done a bang up job. Here’s hoping you enjoyed your General Purpose Non-Denominational Federal Winter Holiday, and that your genitals are returning to good health as well.

So I suppose it’s time to end the annual pouting binge postseason vacation, pull the blogging top hat and monocle back out of the closet and declare myself fully recovered. That’s right. moosedenied is back, bitches! Try to contain your exuberance. Shop as usual, and avoid panic buying.

And you thought Oakland and Kansas City were bad.

A few weeks ago, I made the following assertion: "Without Drew, this team is Detroit."

I stand corrected. Detroit is in a class of its own. I mean… just… wow. Our old pals Moran Norris and John Owens don’t deserve this.

I suppose we’re supposed to accept this as the quid pro quo from the NFL’s schedule-makers. In exchange for the home game in London and the 42 days away from the Superdome, we got the Detroit game as our General Purpose Non-Denominational Federal Winter Holiday gift. And, as is often the case with socially-mandated gifts from casual acquaintances, we politely say "thanks" and make a point of enjoying it for a short period of time before adding it to our ever-expanding stash of clutter.

Okay, it’s official. I’m an asshole (gasps of disbelief fill the internet) and I have no idea what I’m talking about. Ralph is an asshole too. What a couple of buffoons we were for asserting that the Saints simply can’t run the ball consistently and that there’s no point in trying to "commit to the run."

Sean Payton? The third member of the asshole tribunal. You tried to tell us, but we wouldn’t listen. All this time, all the Saints had to do was to run the ball 30 times and presto, Reggie’s all of a sudden good for 8 yards a carry and Pierre’s good for 6.4 a carry. All it took was a "commitment." Right?

Fortunately, Sean Payton finally realized that the only reason the Saints haven’t been putting up 150+ rushing yards per game is because he hasn’t let them. Right? But Sunday’s game proved it. And everything’s gonna be all better from now on. Right?

It’s the chance dangers that I’m afraid of — the senseless, unpredictable dangers of a world falling apart. Consider the physical risks of complex machinery in the hands of blind fools and fear-crazed cowards. … They’ll reach the stage where no day will pass without a major wreck.

Ain’t that the fuckin’ truth.

What was supposed to be a road trip to Tampa turned into a trip to Bizarro World, as the Saints defense held up their end of the bargain for once. The only thing familiar was the outcome, with the Saints snatching defeat from the jaws of victory yet again. But in Bizarro World, it was Drew Brees who gave the game away. Or at least that seems to be the general postgame consensus.

With all due respect to the thoughtful commentators, columnists, beat writers and bloggers out there who came to similar conclusions, I’m gonna have to go ahead and call bullshit.

Leave it to the Saints to have a Monday night game during a week in which Thursday is a major holiday which requires that you start cooking days in advance and tend to your out-of-town-friends’ doggie. Has no one the slightest regard for a blogger’s demanding schedule? Nooooo.

The good news is that it’s a perfect excuse to half-ass it for a week. High five!

The Saints sure were pretty Monday night. Oh sure, they gave up 21 points in the first half. They didn’t gain a damn thing on Carolina or Tampa (thanks, Detroit) and they’re still probably totally screwed (thanks, Marteen.) But it was still one for the archives. And I’d sooner DIE than shirk my blogging responsibilities. Still, it’s a short Thanksgiving week, and I’m not above half-assing it for legit reasons. Or any other kind of reasons. So the following is pretty much just a raw dump of in-game comments cobbled together into something resembling a recap. Enjoy. Or something.