Announcing moosedenied’s first ever contest — See what I was going for there with the pic and its relevance to Thursday night’s opponent, and you win an assortment of valuable prizes.

"The greater the stretch, the more amusing the pun" is what I always say. Well, I don’t always say that. Sometimes I say "Gimme a balloon." Sometimes I say it loud… "HEY ASSHOLE, GIMME A BALLOON!!!"

At any rate, preseason finally comes to a merciful end tomorrow night as de facto head coach Nick Saban Cam Cameron Tony Sparano Bill Parcells leads quarterback Jay Fiedler Brian Griese Sage Rosenfels AJ Feeley Gus Frerotte Daunte Culpepper Joey Harrington Cleo Lemon Trent Green John Beck Chad Henne Chad Pennington and crew to the Superdome for one final round of pointless pushing and shoving against Our Heroes And Jason David.

Word out of Miami is that they’re still pretty sure Drew Brees’ throwing arm is going to fall off any minute now, and that if Randy Mueller hadn’t had the foresight to go with Daunte Culpepper instead, the Dolphins might not be sitting pretty right now with Chad Pennington. No doubt. Say, anybody know what kind of shape Don Strock is in these days?

Evidently Tony Sparano isn’t big on resting his starters for the fourth preseason game (I mean, what could possibly go wrong?) and could end up playing his starters for a while. Which is cool, because I’ve been jonesing to catch a glimpse of this dude they brought in from the CFL’s Toronto Argonauts to play tailback for them. I hear he’s one groovy cat.

Say what you will about Ricky, but on the field, the guy always has been, and still is, an absolute stud. Dude can tote the rock like nobody’s bidness.

But other than that, lately the Phins are about as interesting as the label on a can of dolphin-safe tuna. (Unless it’s DHARMA Brand™ Canned Tuna In Oil, that is. I’m pretty sure that the answers to most of life’s mysteries are contained within the UPC code on a can of DHARMA Brand™ Chunk Light Albacore.)

Given that, how shall we Saints fans amuse ourselves?

Well, there are always the names that are fun to say. The Phins are rollin’ with guys named Yeremiah, Poppinga, Ayodele, Toribio and Heerspink. Not to mention Junior Glymph and Ikechuku Ndukwe. So they’ve got that going for them. Which is nice.

Perhaps more importantly, let us not forget that this could very well be our last chance to meaningfully boo Jason David. Do not let this opportunity pass by squandered. Oh sure, perhaps the Saints will eventually find themselves up against David’s next team. (Let’s pause for a second while Marques Colston dances a jig.) But booing Jason David as an opponent is like settling for carob when you could have chocolate. Carpe diem, Saints fans. Carpe diem.

It might also be our last glimpse of Pierre Thomas for a while. Which might be a damn shame, or might be about as significant as Hillary’s endorsement of Obama.

Peter Tom has been the hot topic on the message boards this week, and with good reason. Funny thing how Message Board Guy™ insists that it’s perfectly appropriate for PT to continue to languish in the cellar of the depth chart because Sean Payton sees a hell of a lot more than we do, knows a hell of a lot more than we do, and Pierre hasn’t yet proven that he ought to be promoted.

That’s a perfectly reasonable opinion on its face, but somehow it rings hollow from the same Guy™ who insists that Devery Henderson remains on the roster (let alone in starting lineup) solely because Sean Payton’s blind to the greatness of Robert Meachem and Lance Moore, and has an irrational mancrush on Devery’s speed while ignoring his overall worthlessness.

So which is it? Does Sean Payton know more than Joe Fan or does he not? Does he play the players who give the team the best chance to win or does he let his personal biases trump what’s best for the team? Come on Message Board Guy, you’ve got all the answers, which is it?

Boy am I going to be totally fucked if Marteen Gramatica makes the roster over Talyor Mehlhaff. Oh how the worm will have turned. Message Board Guy, thy name is Wang. I can see it coming, and yet, I’m powerless to stop it. I implore you Coach Payton, spare me the taste of my own medicine.