Yesterday, ESPN’s John Clayton seemed to kinda-sorta suggest that maybe the Saints would explore the possibility of thinking about maybe holding a meeting to decide whether they should contemplate the idea of attempting to sign recently-kicked-out-on-his-ass Bears defensive tackle, Terry “Tank” Johnson.

Way to go out on a limb there, Mr. Clayton. M’kay?

The message board response was predictable. Isn’t it always?

After scrolling past the requisite cracks about Clayton’s appearance, his perceived lack of sufficient testosterone to merit holding the job the message board guys wish they had, the reminders that occasionally Clayton says something that eventually doesn’t pan out, and therefore everything he says is worthless, we finally get to the root of the issue: Tank Johnson is a thug. A 46-time loser. A recidivist knucklehead. more…

If you think that Reggie Bush’s life kicks ass, you’re probably right.

From the moment Little Superstar donned his Saints cap on draft day 2006, for all intents and purposes, he has shat gold. He has said all the right things, he has shown flashes of brilliance on the field, he has given the Saints the kind of “rub” nationwide that no past Saint ever could. Reggie is Joe Namath. Hulk Hogan.

Reggie is Hollywood. Joe Horn wasn’t Hollywood, he was just playing the role. He wanted to be, but he never was. Reggie is the real deal. Reggie is Hollywood.

But while I’m sure it’s just lovely to be a young superstar jet-setter, complete with all the glamorous trappings of show business… the A-list social calendar, the legions of sycophants, all the supermodels, socialites and starlets you can fuck… it’s also a minefield. One big all-encompassing crazy-ass minefield, where the slightest, most otherwise-harmless transgression can start the dominoes falling. more…

Question: Have you thanked your personal lord and savior for these here intrawebs today?

If not, you might want to get on that pronto. Especially if you’re a Saints fan.

Thanks to Google Alerts, over the last year or so I have been hipped to a veritable assload of media sources for Saints information to which, otherwise, I’d have remained blissfully ignorant. (The key word there is “blissfully.”

One of those sources is the venerable Ed Staton over at BayouBuzz.com. All together now…. “Who???” Fuck if I know. But he looks all stately and shit, what with the pomade and the Aqua Velva (What, you can’t see the fumes?) and such. So I’m gonna go ahead and assume he’s venerable. Or at least, there are probably a few people out there who do, in fact, venerate him. Or something. more…

In the second installment of the 2007 Camp Preview, we shock the world by picking up where part 1 left off.

Der Kommissar’s In Town
If he talks to you then you’ll know why, the more you live, the faster you will die.

Nobody seems to really like Jamie Martin or Jason Fife, and neither guy screams “long term solution.” Martin’s bones could turn to dust at any moment, and Fife doesn’t exactly have a stellar resume.

Furthermore, while Fife seems to fit the Aaron Brooks mold of underachieving athletic specimen, Tyler Palko seems to fit the Drew Brees mold of not-so-athletic overachiever. And obviously, given the choice between someone who even remotely resembles Aaron Brooks vs. someone who even remotely resembles Drew Brees, you know who’s going to be the People’s Champion. more…

In 33 days, the Saints will head back to the semi-shitty home of the Division III Millsaps Majors to begin their second straight run at losing half their roster to heatstroke a Lombardi Trophy.

I’m not saying Millsaps is small-time, but their football team’s photo galleries are hosted on Photobucket. Seriously.

On the other hand, apparently the Majors are coached by Mike DuBose. Who knew? I’m sure that eventually Nick Saban will end up there too.

I’m not a big fan of the whole Millsaps Experience, but it has little to do with Millsaps. It has to do with the south Mississippi August heat, the mere thought of which gives me a case of the horribles.

Yeah, I know, it’s supposed to put hair on their balls. I’m sure gouging themselves in the thighs with flat head screwdrivers would toughen ‘em up too. But shit, how much is too much? I’m all for toughness, fighting through adversity, all that macho shit. That’s great. But I’d prefer that they get good reps rather than dragging ass after the first half-hour because the Gatorade on the sidelines is frickin’ boiling. But what do I know? I’m just a dope on a blog.

There will be plenty of storylines to follow over at Saintsreport, and follow them we shall. more…

Over at SR.com, everybody’s favorite omnicient, unbelievably thin-skinned radio-personality-named-after-a-horse-named-after-a-general continues to wage his dumbfounding war of you-suck against the world’s best wide receiver ever to have been confused with a white defensive back at the pinnacle moment of his career.

The question I’m not entirely certain I want the answer to is: “Why?”

It seems TJ’s position is that Dev “doesn’t want it enough” or otherwise is just too laid back, not as ambitious or driven as, in TJ’s opinion, he ought to be. He doesn’t talk the talk. He doesn’t look the part.

Or, in other words, he’s not Joe Horn.

I’d like to change my question to: “Who gives a flying fuck?”

Joe Horn, by most “unofficial” accounts, was equal parts inspiring firebrand and huge asshole. But since when does that make the difference between primetime player and pine-riding chump? Don’t get me wrong, personality can be a factor in all aspects of life, including professionally. There is something to be said for exuding an air of confidence and drive. But TJ seems to think that the lack thereof is going to bury Dev, even in the face of production which ranks far above what his position on the 2006 depth chart would have had you expect.

If meekness trumps production in Sean Payton’s world, then Mickey Loomis needs to go ahead and fire Payton now.

But of course, that’s surely not the case. Rather, it’s yet another example of bullshit “analysis” based on “gut feel” about harmless (and often misleading) personality traits.

Sports Illustrated’s web site has posted a handful of pretty pictures cobbled together under the bullshit category of “Most Fun Athletes to Watch”

Far be it from me to take issue with pretty pictures. The ones I like tend to require hacked passwords, but to each his own. At any rate, it’s the bullshit category I have an issue with. Most fun to watch, eh? Define ‘fun.’

 Let’s take a look:

Reggie Bush
Hey, I’m a Saints fan. So I’m proud to say that I no longer hate Reggie’s guts. It’s anyone’s guess how long it will stay that way. But for now, he has my full endorsement, and I’m sure he’s thrilled about that.

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So this is what it’s come to, eh? My dumb ass has (un)officially stepped into what the cool kids seem to be calling the “blogosphere.” 

(Mock applause fills the internet) 

I suppose there are worse ways to waste large chunks of my time. And I’ve already got most of those others covered, so why the hell not? Right? Isn’t that the prevailing attitude going in?

I have no idea where I’m planning to go with this. I imagine I will sporadically post masturbatory missives on such subjects as the New Orleans Saints, LSU Football and whatever else might capture my attention at any given time. And I’m sure a lot of time will be spent apologizing profusely to poor souls who may occasionally happen upon this little corner of the web. That ought to be fun.

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