Cha ching. Say hello to your FIRST PLACE New Orleans Saints, bitches.

Your first place New Orleans Saints, who currently own the league’s #2 rushing offense. No, seriously. And there’s a decent chance that it could be #1 after tonight’s Dallas/Carolina game.

Your first place New Orleans Saints, who are currently sporting a top 10 defense and a top 5 rushing defense. A defense which, according to WWL, leads the league in 3-and-outs.

Your undefeated New Orleans Saints, who withstood a comparatively bad day for Drew Brees, and won anyway. By 20 points. On the road. Outdoors. In wet and windy conditions. On the strength of 222, count ‘em, 222 rushing yards against a defense that had only allowed 130 rushing yards in their first two games combined. What the hell is going on around here? Continue Reading…

Paranoia strikes deep
Into your life it will creep 
It starts when you’re always afraid 
You step out of line, the man come and take you away

Remember the first time you discovered that before Neil Young became a founding member of Buffalo Springfield, he was in a band with Rick James? Remember your incredulous reaction? You were sure somebody was screwing with you, because it was just way too fuckin’ cool to be true.

As the Saints prepare to head to the Mustard Capital of Western New York Eastern Ontario to take on the Fightin’ Dick Jaurons, leaving the pungent aroma of greatness wafting in their wake, some fans continue to hold their noses and wait for the other shoe to drop. I mean, there’s gotta be a catch, right? Surely it wasn’t THE Rick James. Probably just some Graham Nash looking asshole from Saskatchewan who just happens to also be named Rick James, or something. Continue Reading…

Cha ching. How’d you like that in your face, bitches?

I’m gonna torture him. I’m gonna crucify him. Real bad.

See, in my head, it actually went down a little something like this: The second fight ended with Clubber once again beating the shit out of the paper champion, as Philadelphia sports fans rained the boos down on yet another hometown hero, in their own inimitable style. The exceedingly gay empty-gym sparring session never happened. Apollo became Clubber’s trainer, and it was those two who flew to Moscow. But instead of winning the hearts and minds of the Soviets with the gritty determination of a prohibitive underdog, they just bust ‘em all up real bad and knock that smug look off their commie faces, Count Of Monte Fisto style. Rocky IV is actually titled "Where The Clubber Meets The Choad" and the subsequent ten Rocky flicks went straight to DVD. Continue Reading…

Sincerely,
 

(Originally posted 9/26/08. Can’t wait to bump it again about this time next year.)

The forecast calls for sunny skies, Artemis feels like a Kolb salad, and the Saints’ very own Day Man will be under center Sunday afternoon. Yes sir, sounds to me like the makings of a long, tall weekend. Perfect time to go America all over everybody’s ass. Gonna rise up, gonna kick a little ass, gonna kick some ass in the USA. Gonna climb a mountain, gonna sew a flag, gonna fly on an eagle. ROCK, FLAG AND EAGLE! Bitches!

Fabulous Jeff is back, just in time to reprise the role of the Night Man. Talk about perfect casting, eh? Gives a whole new meaning to the City of Brotherly Love. Unfortunately for Jeff, Kolb salads traditionally aren’t tossed. Shoulda thought of that before paying the troll toll. Oh, I could go on and on for hours, but I don’t wanna bogart all the references/punch lines. Feel free to add your own in the comments. Continue Reading…

Cha ching.

That’s really about all I can come up with to say about a game that went pretty much according to our slightly-on-the-optimistic-side-of-realistic expectations.

This just in: Drew Brees is still a god. Mike Bell looked like every bit of what we were hoping he’d be, except for one play in which he looked like what some of us fear he still might be. Lance Moore is back and looking as good as ever. Poochie looks like he has a chip on his shoulder, but for now, it’s the good kind. The defense picked off Free Credit Report Dot Com Guy three times and Silent Bob only had 20 yards on 15 carries. Nice. But you already knew all that stuff, and the last thing you need is yet another recap on top of the 50 you’ve probably already read. So let’s go in a different direction. Continue Reading…

Chase Daniel has been a Saint less than 48 hours and I already hate his guts. It’s nothing personal, and it’s not even his fault. Still, I hate him and wish he would go away immediately.

Sorry, Chase. Any chance you’d be willing to remedy this issue by changing your surname? I don’t even care what you change it to. Alem, Abdul-Rauf, Ochocinco, Fieri, doesn’t matter. Hell, even Daniels would be fine.

Those of you who have regularly subjected yourself to this here blog for any significant period of time know that I’m fiercely devoted to my own pet peeves. Especially ones that regularly present themselves on the internet.

Want me to know that you’re a huge douchebag? Use the word "frosh." Want to blind me with rage? Use the word "myriad." Extra points for using it as an adjective. Want to make my head explode? Spell words like "grey" the hip European wey, even though you and I both know you’re from fuckin’ Kentucky. (Incidentally, grey is a tone, asshole. Not a colour. This just in: don’t believe everything you read in the liner notes of a fucking Counting Crows CD. They’ve never been to Europe either.)  Continue Reading…

The hits just keep on coming, don’t they? Let’s just hope that Usama wasn’t heading home from a rousing evening of Madden 10 and pillbox pong over at Hartley’s place. Otherwise, this might not be over just yet.

These kids today, I swear.

I’m surprised nobody is making a bigger deal out of quite possibly the single stupidest of Usama’s offenses here. Apparently, the unremedied malparkage in question happened at Lakeside Mall… on Dec 18. Dude. Doooood. While we’re learning lessons here, here’s one more: There is no good reason to be within a square mile of a fuckin’ mall a week before Christmas. Ever. Talk about self-destructive behavior. My god, man. That’s even worse than Driving While Black and then running from the fuzz. Continue Reading…

Holy shit that was fun.

Well, it was fun, anyway. Right up until Mike Triplett, Brian Allee-Walsh, Pete Finney and Message Board Guy stepped to the soapbox yet again to lecture us on how critically important it is that we resist the urge to take a moment’s joy out of the Saints’ afternoon-long Charlie Murphy treatment of the Raiders.

And it’s a damn good thing they did, because I had totally forgotten that August is a damn liar, preseason games don’t count in the standings, the Raiders blow, and my personal favorite, the fact that Detroit went 4-0 in preseason last year. NOOOOO!!!! Clearly we’re totally screwed if the Saints win Thursday night against the Dolphins. Come on, Coach Payton, take a dive! Not that it really matters I guess, because sooner or later it’s all gonna go to shit anyway. Continue Reading…