We want you to know that we have a team of lawyers working to address this issue right at this very moment. They are currently drafting an official Finney Disclaimer as I sit here engaging in further internet jackassery. As soon as the document has been completed, reviewed, notarized and scanned, it will be posted to this here blog, and we feel confident that it will clear up any confusion you may have been subjected to lo these many months regarding the true identity of the author(s) of any content spewed forth onto this here blog.

Meantime, we feel fairly confident that most of you have been well aware of the fact that we had no intention of "fraudulently" putting anything on this blog and intentionally trying to "pass it off as his." We assume you’ve already asked yourself why anyone in this century would want to try to ride Finney’s coattails in the first place. I mean, hey, back in ‘78, when Finney used to go to the trouble of putting a little elbow grease into it? Sure. These days? Not so much.

We’ve also been laboring under the assumption that most folks who read this blog don’t need to be told "Hey you!!! Theeeese are the jokes."

But we’ll freely concede that we erred in assuming that applies to everyone. I mean, after all, this is 21st Century Amurrikah we’re living in over here. It was only a matter of time before someone stumbled along whose grasp of the obvious fell juuuust a little short of the baseline we arbitrarily (but generously) set for ourselves.

So let’s take a few minutes to clarify, shall we?

This here blog is in no way affiliated with Pete Finney, nor is he in any way affiliated with this here blog. It’s called parody, people. Cartoons aren’t real either.

Furthermore, we would like to make it perfectly clear that the picture above is not a picture of anyone in the Finney family. The text appearing in the picture was not actually uttered by anyone affiliated with the Finneys. Hollis Thomas’ blood is not actually composed of 96% brown gravy. To our knowledge, Drew Brees cannot actually fly, nor does he actually shit gold (though we wouldn’t put it past him.)

Genuine Pete:

So we wait. We wait for a number of things.

We wait to see if folks like Vilma and Morgan and Gay can overcome injuries that made them expendable.

We wait to see if their second-round pick, cornerback Tracy Porter, plays to his drafting status.

We wait to see if the 2008 draft, when graded, will be somewhat closer to 2006 (which gave starters Reggie Bush, Roman Harper, Jahri Evans and Marques Colston) than to 2007 (that gave us the only No. 1 pick that spent his rookie season as a spectator).

So sit back and enjoy the wait.

Fake Pete:

Aaron Stecker. Reggie Bush. Pierre Thomas. They’re like bulls. Spanish bulls. Who can see through fog.

Is it some kind of superpower?

No.

It’s just a regular power. The power of vision. And Sean Payton is a visionary.

Sometimes you have to win ugly. Yesterday was not one of those days.

But the question remains: Can the Saints continue to win, ugly or otherwise?

We’ll just have to wait and see.

Genuine Pete:

Yes, times have changed.

It’s summer, and if you pay a visit to some of the area’s playgrounds during the balmy days of June, you might be surprised, perhaps shocked, by what’s going on during these sunshine mornings.

Not much.

Obviously the sun has had its way, pushing summertime activity into the evening hours.

It made me wonder what David "Pro" Scheuermann might be doing to take on ol’ sol.

I say this after a visit to Jefferson Playground the other day brought me past a plaque bearing the likeness of "Pro" Scheuermann, for whom the football field is named.

Of course, you’re asking: Who’s Pro Scheuermann?

Fake Pete:

It was quite an eventful weekend for the Saints.

How so, you ask?

Well, let me tell you.

It started Saturday morning, just like most other weekends. But this wasn’t just any weekend. No, this one was different. This one was like Christmas weekend. Christmas doesn’t always fall on a weekend, but when it does, this was a lot like that.

And let me tell you something else.

If Mickey Loomis’ goal was to land LSU’s Glenn Dorsey, he failed. But if his goal was to land the best player he possibly could without paying too much, he just might have succeeded.

But when will we know for sure?

I’ll tell you.

Just as soon as I finish this sandwich.

That ought to clear it right up, don’t you think?

We can only hope that Pete himself isn’t quite so uptight. We can also amuse ourselves wondering how the conversation must have gone…

Hey Pete, I just found this article on a blog calling itself "moosedenied". Something about how Willie Roaf loves cheese. They’re claiming you wrote it. I think they’re probably LYING!!!!!! But I’ll be damned if I can really be sure. So I wanted to check with you first. Did you really write this?

Ah, Pete. We love ya, champ. You’re a New Orleans institution, and you’re more than welcome to indulge in a little illegitimate media asshattery with us anytime. Hey, Jim Henderson wasn’t above wasting a few precious minutes slumming with us. And he’s been pretty much kicking your ass for at least two decades now.

But we’re pretty sure you’re capable of being just as cool as Henderson. We did a little legwork down at our local library (and don’t even get me started on what a pain in the ass it is these days to convince them to pull out the microfiche for you… ) We’re pretty sure you just need something to get your dander up and make you give a shit again like you used to back when gasoline was $0.86/gallon. We’re willing to make that sacrifice. For you.

Meantime, no queremos ninguÌn apuro, esse. We don’t want no trouble, holmes.