Dewa sono uchi ni, Fujita-san. Osewa ni narimashita. Kio tsukete, ganbatte ne.

Sayonara, Scotty Badass. With any luck, we'll be seeing you again in a few years. Joe Vitt's gotta hang 'em up at some point, eh?

Hey, the business of football sucks sometimes. We've been here and done this many times before, and we'll be doing it again sooner than we'd like, I'm sure. If it's any consolation, this is one of those rare breakups where everybody's probably going to be better off for it, and nobody's "to blame." Both parties did the responsible thing, and you can only hope that behind the scenes, nobody's feelings are hurt. Continue Reading…

(Yeah, I've been known to rock out to a little Gordo every now and then. What of it?)

So, have you heard? Tonight at 11:00, it all starts falling apart.

Dogen is dead, the CBA is dead, "the rules" are out the window, and now there's nothing left to keep Al Davis, Daniel Snyder and Jerry Jones from invading our temple and unleashing their smoky wrath all over our asses. Clearly, the time to panic is now. If only we had some of Desmond's huge DHARMA syringes left. Damn that little punkass Australian baby! Now we're totally screwed! Continue Reading…

Holy crap, it's March already?

That's probably what Mickey Loomis mumbled to himself yesterday morning as he stumbled out of bed. Right, Florio?

Fortunately, Mickey was able to get himself caught up on Lost and free up a bunch of much-needed DVR space just in time to hop a plane to Indy and watch Terrence Cody straight up dominate the ranch dressing drill at the combine. (Unofficial results had him breaking the combine record set by Hugo Reyes in 2004.) Continue Reading…

We think we know what we're doin', but that don't mean a thing. It's all in the past now, money changes everything.

Welcome to another offseason, bitches. It seems fitting that a season in which pigs flew, hell froze over and the Saints turned the whole damn system upside down would be followed by an offseason unlike any other. As in the regular and postseasons, most of us will be spending lots of time furrowing our brow in a vain attempt to understand the situation while wondering whether this is a momentary glitch in the normal order of things, or whether it's the beginning of some kind of crazy-ass "new normal." Either way, it's gonna take some getting used to. Continue Reading…

One of the fringe benefits of winning a championship is that you get to piss a bunch of people off in the process. And then you get to laugh at them.

For as many new fans as the Saints picked up during their championship run, they were inevitably going to pick up a large number of brand new haters as well. Which has to be disconcerting to certain esteemed members of our local media, who have never been too keen on increasing competition in the first place. But for us Saints fans? It's big fun. Continue Reading…

You know how sometimes when you hope and wish for something to happen, maybe for a very long time, and you imagine a million different ways it could possibly play out, and you wait and hope and dream and wait and wait and wait… and then it finally comes to pass, and you just can't help but to be a little let down? You've built it up in your head to such an impossible degree of epic greatness, there was just no way the actual event could live up to what you had dreamt of?

This… was not that. Not by a long shot. This wasn't just better than you possibly could have scripted it. It was better than you possibly could have imagined it. Continue Reading…

In case you haven't heard, Peyton Manning and the Indianapolis Colts have a game this Sunday. Nobody's really sure who the opponent is gonna be, but everybody's pretty sure it doesn't really matter.

For some reason, the Saints have apparently taken a field trip to Miami to partake in the festivities. Must be one of those Sean Payton motivational techniques. Word is ESPN has arranged for a box full of Peyton Manning's jocks to be delivered to the Saints' hotel so that they can Smell Greatness. Continue Reading…

"Sir, there's an angry mob here to see you."

"Do they have an appointment?"

Sheesh, who knew there would be so many Saints fans there to shake my hand and share the land that they'll be giving away when we all live together? Talkin' 'bout together now. By golly, it's a fuckin' brotherhood of man! And here I am with nary a fleur to put in my hair. Perhaps I'll stop by the Free Store and pick up a handful on the way to the protest march. Continue Reading…

Bet it never crossed your mind that you'd remember Garrett Hartley for the rest of your life, did it?

If you don't mind, I'm going to leave the emoting and broader-context "what this means to the city and its people" stuff to people who are far better at it than I would be. No talk of kharma or divine intervention. No reminiscing about the bad old days and what a long time coming it's been. Those are all beautiful things, important things, powerful and inspirational things. Things that we'll be talking about for the rest of our lives. But for now, my mind is still focused solely on this football team. MY football team. The best damn football team in the NFC, bar none, without a doubt. A team that, in two weeks, will be crowned the best team in the whole damn National Football League. Because, make no mistake about it… We got this. Continue Reading…