William Layton Roaf, bitches.

For the second time in three years, it's gonna be one hell of a banner weekend down at the World's Biggest Juicer. In what's clearly become a full-blown biannual tradition at this point, another Saint is joining the pantheon of all-time NFL greats. Next up in 2014, Morten Andersen. Then in 2016, Aaron Brooks. But there will be plenty of time to bask in their greatness later. This weekend, it's all about Big Willie.

Sadly, Willie's enshrinement speech is unlikely to be anywhere near as unintentionally hilarious as City Champ's was. Willie never was really all that colorful, quotable or flamboyant. He certainly doesn't seem like a porkpie hat kind of guy, though with any luck maybe he'll cut the sleeves off of his gold blazer. That'd be pretty badass.

But I don't expect we'll be hearing any stories about how when he was a kid back home in Pine Bluff, it was great because you could just walk down the road a ways and get some vegetables slaughter you up some delicious meat.

But who knows, maybe Willie will surprise us and go off on some kind of semi-coherent rant about what a frat boy meathead Kyle Turley was, or regale us with various tales of miscellaneous Mike Ditka buffoonery. Hell, I'd settle for a simple Klaus Wilmsmeyer shoutout.

And, if nothing else, there's always a decent chance that Tom Benson will awkwardly interject himself into the proceedings somehow, which is always good for a chuckle.

Or perhaps it'll turn out that Willie's bust looks vaguely like Lionel Richie. Hell, don't they all?

I suspect it'll be pretty bland though. Which is fine with me, as long as he doesn't go all Michael Irvin with it and repeatedly peddle a stupid catch phrase shamelessly recycled from the words of a dying basketball coach in a speech 14 years earlier, in a blatantly transparent effort to manufacture a tearjerking inspirational sound bite that'll keep him on tee vee about 5000 times every August from now until the end of time.

Take a drink every time they show that clip, by the way. Double up every time Rich Eisen points out how awesome it was. Drink up, smoke up, and don't ever… Pardon me while I wipe this single tear off my left cheek. Hey, shut up. It's just so damned inspirational.

Word is the entire Saints team is planning to wear #77 jerseys to the enshrinement ceremony. Which is a nice gesture, but they really ought to reconsider. God only knows how many suspensions Roger will be handing down for uniform violations. Nobody's safe but Brodrick Bunkley!

Anyway, screw Anthony Muñoz. (Feel free to go ahead and use that if you want, Willie.)

But those aren't the only hijinks scheduled for this weekend. Apparently there's gonna be some kind of Hall of Fame banquet during which whatever's left of the Saints franchise gets to sit down and break bread with The Rog. That ought to be fun. No word on what kind of plans Remi Ayodele might have in store for Roger's bowl of gazpacho, but I know where Remi can get a hold of some Starcaps if he's having trouble "getting into the flow" as it were.

ESPN's Mike Greenberg seems to have it in his head that the Saints will (or at least maybe oughta) make some kind of defiant scene at this here event. And while it'd be incredibly amusing if they all stood up en masse, dropped trou and wiggled their dongs at him, or something, I seriously doubt that anything like that is actually gonna happen. After all, don't wanna miss out on that stuffed airline breast and taters au gratin.

And you just know that Roger would totally send 'em all to bed without dinner if they sass back or otherwise don't behave themselves. Or at least not let them have dessert, which would surely piss Remi off even more. Don't chance it, fellas.

All I know is that it's a crying damn shame that Bobby Hebert won't be there. Bobby, The Rog and an open bar? No… let me tell you, if you look at it, that would have been incredibly amusing. Can't the team fly him in as a guest or something? Make it happen, Loomis!

And then there's the little matter of Chase Daniel(s) leading the troops into Fawcett Stadium for 60 minutes of pushing and shoving carefully orchestrated to look like something vaguely resembling an actual football game. Hell yes! (I'd wager that somewhere in my attic, I probably still have the Fawcett Stadium poster I used to fap to back in the 80s.)

The game promises to be incredibly entertaining, despite the likelihood of the Saints' best players spending most of the evening pulling splinters out of their asses. Which of course means precious little Jed Collins. But September's coming. Wait for it… wait for it…

Meantime, apparently Joe Morgan has played about 100 games at Fawcett Stadium, and @JeffDuncanTP (protected account, please do not attempt to follow unless you're a fully-credentialed member of the Legitimate Media™) is pretty sure that Morgan is "clearly the Saints' best deep threat" at this point. So I'm expecting Chunky Chase to go all bombs away with it all damn night, which should be absolutely hysterical.

Adrian Arrington is gonna be pissed.

Oh yeah, I'm talking full-on flea-flicker on the first snap and everything. After all, Joe Vitt has already said that they're approaching this game as if it were the Black and Gold Scrimmage. Which implies that they'll be pretending they're going up against the Saints defense. So… you know… Michael Higgins ought to go for about a buck 70 or so.

Chase is gonna have to keep his head on a swivel though. Earlier this week, moosedenied came into possession of an email from Kurt Warner to Ken Whisenhunt, in which Warner signed off with: "By the way, put me down for $5000 on Daniels. [sic]" Hey, it could be Kurt's only chance to get himself some of that sweet, sweet old testament eye-for-an-eye vengeance. It's not like the Saints and Cardinals are gonna be meeting in the playoffs again any time soon. I mean, seriously, Kevin Kolb? (That's actually another quote from Kurt's email.)

Kurt's a decent guy though. A fine, upstanding, god-fearing 'Murikan. It's just not in his character to do something like that. So we're pretty sure he'll be repenting some time between now and Sunday, at which point I'm sure he'll send another email saying "Wait, scratch that. Put it on Canfield instead." Thanks, Kurt!

(We forwarded Kurt's email to Roger, by the way. He said it doesn't qualify as bona fide evidence. Go figure. Meantime, we're doing the best we can to follow the money trail here, because we're pretty sure Kurt's bounty is being bankrolled by Chik-Fil-A. Heads will be exploding all over Twitter if we can get to the bottom of this.)

It's also going to be our first opportunity to witness the new and improved Spags defense, featuring Johnny Patrick and Marquis Johnson. High five! Sometime between now and Sunday night, please say a prayer for both of their respective groins.

Sir Jeff (not to be confused with the far more honest @SirJeft) seems to think it's gonna be a big test for the Saints. Which of course begs the question once again: Seriously, Kevin Kolb?

Say, what do you think the chances are that Sean Payton might go ahead and pull himself a Pete Rose and set up an autograph signing session about 6 inches outside the perimeter of Roger's restraining order? Because that'd be fun.

At any rate, enjoy your throbbing preseason boner this weekend. I know I'll be enjoying mine. FENUKI TUPOU, BITCHES! Give a little bit of heart and soul and don't you make me beg for more…

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