"Coach Payton? Hi, my name is Dave. I used to play quarterback for John Fox but he don’t play me no mo. Oh no. Anyway, I just wanted you to know that Vinny is out because he’s old and I’m gonna really suck and throw you two interceptions because I want you to show up Coach Fox because he don’t play me no mo, and I’m mad."

Five and six, bitches! Yay? Oh sure, what the hell. Damn right yay! What are you gonna do, sulk your way through the rest of the season, smugly self-satisfied with the accomplishment of having proclaimed the Saints dead long before everyone else "accepted the truth?" Wait, you say you’re one of those message board guys? And that’s exactly what you plan to do? Oh, I see. Well then how about you go fuck yourself? That work for ya?

The problem with a win like this one is that there’s really not a whole lot to say about it. The Saints kicked the Pants’ asses in just about every way permissable by law. But the Pants suck in just about every way permissable by law. (North Carolina law, that is, which means the list of ways to suck lawfully is a little shorter than in most other states.)

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