*BUMPED FROM 7/27/07*

Steve Gleason, we hardly knew ye. We were well aware of your hair. But ye? Not so much.

What we do know is that you’re a badass. A cult hero. A fan-favorite. By all accounts, a genuine good guy who has given his blood, sweat and tears for our New Orleans Saints every single day of the six years you’ve been here. And as far as we know, not once have you ever maimed a dog for your personal pleasure and financial gain.

We’ve heard that you’re a pretty strange cat, and we say that in the most complimentary way possible. A dude who does his own thing, and is in love with life. A damn fine American. All that good shit.

The Saints put you on injured reserve yesterday, and we’d just like you to know that we think that’s a damn shame. A damn shame. I once asked God why bad things happen to good people, but he never got back to me. I’m pretty sure my correspondence got eaten by his spam filter. Stupid fucking AOL.

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