Welp. I mean, of course wackiness was bound to ensue. Duh. It was inevitable. This! Is! New Orleans!

And of course, no matter how the aforementioned inevitable wackiness were to have manifested itself, you just knew that there would be an immediate chorus of put-upon media types wagging their fingers and screaming "Shame on NOLA!" What an absolute travesty! It's an outrage! Oh boo fuckin' hoo. The Legits are such bitches. And, as usual, their sense of entitlement and their general-purpose irritability have them looking at this thing all wrong. The blackout was without a doubt the single most awesome thing that happened during Super Bowl "Big Game" 47, and quite possibly the most fun thing that happened during whole damn two-week corporate orgy. It was a bona fide "for the ages" moment. To hell with who's "to blame." They ought to be trying to figure out who deserves the credit. Continue Reading…

Eat that, King Jerkface.

So at long last, Paul Tagliabue finally told us what we've known all along. This whole thing was mostly a crock of shit right from day one, and Joffrey Roger is a capricious, tyrannical megalomaniac who seized an opportunity (granted, one that the Saints organization handed him on a silver platter) to coerce into existence a foundation upon which to stage a dog-and-pony show for the sake of advancing the league's self-serving agenda with regard to the player safety issue, as well as cementing his own status as the unimpeachable lord and master of all his eyes survey. Unfortunately that specific language was stricken from the final draft, but the substance of the ruling made it clear anyway. Continue Reading…

Best. Fucking. Offseason. EVER!

And I say that without a hint of irony and/or sarcasm. Seriously, are you not entertained? Because I've gotta tell ya, I am unbelievably amused.

Quite frankly, I'm a little awe-struck by the whole thing. Who could possibly have seen all this coming 28 days ago? I'd like to take this opportunity to offer my sincerest apologies to Mickey Loomis and Sean Payton for even entertaining the notion earlier this month that they might not actually be the smartest guys in the room. Clearly I was mistaken. The Rog zigs, they zag. The media jabs, they bob and/or weave. They are the roadrunner to the Rog's Wile E Coyote. The Bugs Bunny to the media's Elmer Fudd. The nWo to everybody else's Dubya See Dubya. One more for the Bad Guys. Continue Reading…

Welp, the good news is what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Except when it doesn't, and leaves you severely crippled instead.

And that's precisely where we are at this point, right? That certainly seems to be the consensus in the Legitimate Media™ anyway. Might as well go ahead and pack it in until 2013, if not years later than that, because we're straight fucked now. All hope is lost. Forget about the Saints being the first team to play in a Super Bowl in its home stadium. The Rog put the bone to that notion something fierce. Hell, we'll be lucky if the franchise has recovered by the next time New Orleans hosts the Super Bowl. Right, Duncan & Varney? Continue Reading…