Saturday night (seems like ages ago now, doesn’t it) the Saints went up to Cincinnati and put it to the Bengals in just about every way permissable under Ohio law.

First, allow me to demonstrate my firm grasp on the obvious: the Saints’ offense is going to be straight up loco come September.

Much like the merciless pepper of Quetzlzacatenango, grown deep in the jungle primeval by the inmates of a Guatemalan insane asylum, this offense is gonna have opposing d-coordinators coating the inside of their mouths with candle wax so as not to taste it as it’s shoved down their throats. That, and crapping their pants. Oh there will be plenty of pants-crapping. And we will laugh and laugh as we bask in the warm, glowing, warming glow of general superiority. more…