Cha-ching! DEUUUUUUUUCE!!!

Somewhere in New York City, Roger's having a Matty Ice Moment in his pants. Pete Prisco is going all Dutch Wagenbach with it on the windpipe of a small cat. And the Falcons are about to implode. Good times.

It remains to be seen whether or not the Saints can pull themselves all the way out of the early season 0-4 hole and actually make the playoffs. But if not, at least the consolation prizes are starting to roll in. For now, that'll just have to do. And it'll do just fine, thank you very much. But I've got a hunch that it's only gonna get better from here. A lot better.

The Saints still own the Falcons in pretty much every conceivable way, and that of course remains big fun. But I've got a feeling that Sunday afternoon, it got a whole lot bigger than even that. It went to a whole other level. I don't think the Saints just beat the Falcons Sunday, I think they destroyed them. Ruined them. Shot them right out of the sky and set into motion a crash and burn of epic proportions. And it's going to be a glorious thing to behold.

We pointed out last week that the Falcons have been teetering on the edge all season anyway. They weren't (and aren't) nearly as good as their 8-0 record going in would have suggested. Their defense blows. Their running game blows. Five of their eight wins had been "escapes." They'd only beaten one team with a winning record all season. It was just a matter of time until the four-leaf clover they had shoved up their ass quit working its magic and the whole house of cards collapsed in on itself. For all those reasons, but even moreso, for this reason:

They're a bunch of clowns. Punks. Bitches. All strut, no nut.

The kind of dudes who eat the cheese and start talking 16-0 halfway through. The kind who talk a bunch of shit on Twitter leading up to the games. The kind who fuck around in their locker room the day before a game taping ridiculous freestyle raps to post on their team web site. (At least they weren't rappin kids though, am I right #Rodney?) The kind who run around yapping and disturbing their opponents' pregame warmups in a pathetically lame attempt to play mindgames, or whatever it is they think they're doing.

Then they get punched in the mouth, shit their pants, come up small in a big moment (as usual) and before they even hit the showers, it all starts crumbling. They get all butt hurt and start pointing fingers. They start whining about how their fans are gonna be jumping off the bandwagon any minute now. (In his defense, DeCoud is probably right.)

At eight and fucking one.

Why? Because they're weak. Because they're all caught up in their own nonsense. Because they're too busy acting a fool beforehand and crying afterwards. Way too much false bravado, not nearly enough testicular fortitude.

I'd say they're like Jim Haslett's Saints, but at least Jim Haslett's Saints won a playoff game.

And that's why the Falcons are about to crash and burn. That's why they're about to start losing games to teams they're "supposed to" beat over the back half. Because they can't handle it. Because, just like their fans, they're frontrunners. Ridiculously long on all manner of douchetastic bluster, woefully short on the stones necessary to keep themselves together when shit gets real.

That's why, even with the best record in football with seven games remaining, they're still a bunch of second-rate pretenders. And everybody in the world knows it.

I think our friend Hacksaw Butch Reid said it best: If ever there was a time for the Falcons to finally cement their status as Alpha Dogs, Sunday afternoon was it. They could have done it about halfway through the first quarter. They could have put their foot on the Saints' throats and blown them out. They didn't. They had another chance at the end of the game for a changing-of-the-guard style comeback win from down two scores in the 4th quarter in the house of their archnemesis. They failed.

Because that's who they are. That's what they do. And if all the postgame crybagging is any indication, they're well aware of it. They just needed somebody to slap them right across the face and remind them of it. And of course it was the Saints who did the honors. Who else would it have been? We own their sorry asses.

But the best is yet to come, because it doesn't stop here. No sir. The Saints didn't just beat them, they took a chainsaw to a load-bearing beam. Stuck a pin right in their inflated sense of their own self-proclaimed greatness. Which is the one blow the Falcons just don't have it in them to withstand.

By golly, we might very well end up getting our righteous catharsis after all. Sunday was just the start of it. The Falcons aren't going 16-0 and it was the Saints who did the honors. Check. Prisco's already got his ass all tied up in a knot, and it's only gonna get tighter. Check. Roger's sitting in his office furrowing his brow and mumbling to himself "Seriously? Fuck!" Check. The Saints are relevant again, are among the hottest teams in the NFL over the last 5 games, and suddenly the playoffs are back in play for real.

Tampa is 5-4, but they still have to go to Denver and come to the Benz™. (Not to mention two against the Falcons, but we'll call that a wash because I'm not so sure I won't be hoping the Bucs win those two. In fact, I'm pretty sure I will be.)

Minnesota is 6-4, but down the stretch they've got Houston, and two each against Green Bay and Chicago. Ouch.

Seattle currently owns the second wildcard, and they might be a tough out, we'll see. They oughta be 5-5 (am I right Green Bay?) but unfortunately, the fact is that they're 6-4. Their schedule down the stretch might be a lot tougher than it looks though. They're already 0-3 in their division, having already lost to each of the other teams in the NFC West. Granted, all those were on the road. But they have to play each of those teams again down the stretch. And they've gotta travel aaaaaaaaall the way to Miami and Buffalo. AND they have to play Chicago on the road as well. Seattle is 1-4 on the road so far, with their only road win being a 16-12 escape against 2-7 Camrolina.

As for the Saints themselves, I know everybody's soiling themselves over that San Francisco/Atlanta/New York Giants stretch coming up. And hey, I don't blame ya. But I don't see any reason the Saints can't win all three of those games. Sue me.

San Francisco will be on a short week after what's sure to be one hell of a physical Monday night game against Chicago. It's at the Benz™. It'll be a revenge/redemption game for the Saints after that abomination back in January. The 49ers can't pass for shit, so it's not impossible that the Saints could hold Alex Smith to something along the lines of 350. (High five?)

Atlanta? Pfft. As has been previously well established, we own them. Own. Also, primetime, bitches.

The Giants? An utterly average team who hasn't really beaten anybody all year, with the exception of San Francisco. They've lost their last two and might very well lose their third straight vs. Green Bay after their bye this week. They'll be on a short week going into the Saints game after playing Monday night at Washington. Meanwhile, the Saints will be coming off a 10-day mini-bye after having played Atlanta on Thursday night.

I'm not saying it won't be difficult. I'm not saying it's likely. Hell, for all any of us know the Saints could go to Oakland this weekend, lay an egg and crush our souls before we can even get ourselves worked up into a full-blown frenzy of #wegotthis. But Oakland blows, and I think it's far more likely that this weekend is when the Saints finally put a full-blown righteous beatdown on somebody and get us all lathered up for real.

Meantime, I don't know about you, but I'm right back in "dream big" mode at this point.

A wildcard will do just fine, thank you very much. But I'm dreaming bigger than that. 7-0 down the stretch, bitches. 11-5, 11-1, 9-0 and by the grace of Breesus… dare I even entertain the notion… NFC South Champions. Yeah, I said it. It's just too delicious a scenario to willfully ignore. Not as long as it's even remotely plausible.

Can you even imagine? The Falcons crash and burn after an 8-0 start and lose the division title to a Saints team that started 0-4 and doesn't even have their head coach? Talk about one for the ages. I'm not even sure whether I'd prefer the Saints get the opportunity to beat them a third time in the playoffs, or for them to end up missing the playoffs altogether. But I suppose either way will do just fine. HEADS WILL EXPLODE!

So that's The Dream for this week. Delusional? Maybe. Ridiculously homeriffic? You betcha. I do not apologize.

Go ahead and dream it, bitches. BELIEVE IT! What, you're still afraid of getting kicked in the balls again? After everything that's happened so far?

Close your eyes for a second and imagine what it's gonna be like Thursday night, November 29th, when the Saints strut into the Georgia Dome 6-1 over their last 7 and riding a 4-game winning streak to take on a panicked Falcons team riding a 3-game losing streak and in full meltdown. Imagine the boos raining down from the Georgia Dome rafters (assuming there are enough fans in the seats to make the boos audible.) Imagine #RodneyWhite on the sideline, hanging his head in a daze of abject hopelessness as the Saints hand them their asses and their fourth straight loss, pulling to within a game of the division lead and owning the tiebreaker. Imagine the crying afterward. You thought Sunday was fuckin' badass?

This is happening. It just has to. It's too damn ridiculously awesome not to.

Sunday afternoon was just the start. This thing is about to go all storybook.

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