Midget Magic

I slack off for a month and look what happens.

* Colston can't catch crap.
* Shockey and Bush have actual, honest-to-goodness yardage.
* Jason David is a stud. (ok, I'm not jumping on THAT bandwagon just yet, but good for him)
* The world is finally recognizing the AWESOMENESS that we around here already knew about in Pierre Thomas and Lance Moore.
* The Saints have another new kicker and punter. I don't remember either of their names. All I know is the little guy isn't named Olindo or Martina, and he is my new bestest friend in the whole wide world. So far.

Who would have thunk it?

And now back to reality. The reality that our entire freaking season now hinges on winning a game against Chicago.

At Soldier Field.

In December.

At night.

Thanks N-Fricking-L.

Oh well, maybe 3rd times charm up there. Rock the house Pierre!

Help . . . Dallas Question

I know, I'm supposed to be on suspension here. But I need a little help, and I was hoping someone had the answer.

We'll be in Dallas (actually in the Carrollton area) for the game on the 30th. In case we can't catch the Saints on either of the network channels, does anyone know of a good place to watch the game? Preferably a place we can take the kids (ages 5 & 1). Help, help, help!!!

Sincerely,
Your distressed and suspended Saints Ranter

Taking One For The Team: My 4-Game Suspension

Once again, it's probably all my fault. I've been remiss in my blogging duties, and I apologize if this in any way has affected our beloved team. Clearly a portion of the blame must be placed on my shoulders. Just like CLEARLY that earlier loss was Weatherford's fault. (Really??? Seriously, Coach, he was one of the few guys on the team that could throw down a nice tackle.) And CLEARLY our kicking game is to blame for all of this team's woes, so yeah, let's get rid of both of those guys, right? Clearly, that was the problem.

But I digress . . .

Before I'm cut or placed on IR for the remainder of the season, I'm going to take a 4-game suspension. Consider it my sacrifice to the football gods, so they may allow Deuce, Grant, and Smith to stick around and play in my absence. (I'm worth all three of those guys, right?) If not, I'll serve my time in silence with them. But fear not, friends. It's only four weeks. I'll be back, better than ever. I'll be working out every day (doing this). I promise. If you want, you can check up on me to make sure I'm staying in shape. And I promise to return in December, ready for the postseason. Until then, dear Who Dats, stay strong and keep those playoff hopes alive.

CRAAAAAAAAP!!!!!

What the hell was THAT massive load of crap?

I have a serious MNF hangover. I was up . . . I was down . . . I was hop-skippin'-n-jumpin' all over the frickin' living room for about thirty minutes. Then came Tina and his gimpy crotch. From then on it was just all out wonkiness. WTF was up with the penalties? And while we're at it, WTF was up with the offensive line? I mean, I know Jared Allen is good, but damn. Did we have to let the rest of the marauders through? The 3 unbelievable mind-blowing Bush returns was just a big, fat C-tease. At the end of the game, I just felt all empty and dirty inside.

I know I gave a hard time to all the fans who've been prematurely shouting for Deuce, but I want to clear something up. I'm not against running the damn ball. I'm against running it poorly. And this team has proven that it can't run well consistently. So, go ahead guys. Do what works when it works. Just lay off the dumbass mistakes.

But what disturbed me the most was watching Tracy Porter walk to the locker room with his right hand wrapped up in a bloody towel. Coach said today that he had surgery on a "dislocated wrist" this morning. Dude, I've seen dislocated body parts before. They don't normally bleed. That looked like one badass compound fracture. Either way . . . not good. You know who that leaves lining up opposite McKenzie next week, don't you?

But I leave you with one happy note. Anyone else see the bestest part of the game? The Countdown show where they play who knows the player better, their wife or their teammate. Guess who played the game . . . yep, everyone's favorite Defensive Captain . . . Scott Fujita! His wife competed against Charles Grant, with the help of two very cute little girls. Too funny. Now the whole world knows that if you take Scott Fujita to the karaoke bar, he'll probably sing "Baby Got Back." Good to know.

Have You Hugged Your Receiver Today?

Bull Crap.

Make sure you give those receivers and quarterbacks a good hug (and maybe a little Frenching for good measure) on the way down, or the NFL's gonna take away your kid's college fun.

While you're at it, go ahead and give Tom Benson a big hug too. That's right, you heard me. Big B needs some love. Why? Because he could be Al Davis. What a nut job. I swear I actually heard a reporter waiting at the mic giggle after something that Dementia Davis said early on in that ridiculous tirade of his. Then he had the nerve to say, "I hired the wrong guy." No, Mr. Davis. You hired the only guy who would take the job. Good luck finding another coach next year.
And for that, we love you, Tom Benson.
And for only that.

I don't even want to talk about Sedrick Ellis. I'm going to hid in the closet and close my eyes and put my fingers in my ears and chant, "Not listening, I'm not listening," until Monday. I just can't stand these stupid rotten injuries anymore.

Stupidity Knows No Bounds

And I thought we made some boneheaded moves. This one wins the Boneheaded Move of the Year award.

St. Louis fired head coach Scott Linehan.
duh.

What's interesting is who they made interim head coach . . .

drumroll, please . . .

wait for it . . .

wait for it . . .

wait . . .



Yep. That guy. Jim Freakin' Haslett. Oh, he screwed up the Saints, but he was still supposedly some defensive genius (yeah, we never got a taste of any of that), so he'd be GREAT as d-coordinator in St. Louis. Right? Oh, wait. Weren't they last in defense in the league?

Ok, let's take bets. How long will smiley have to wait to get the phone call that gets his out of shape ass off the couch?

The NFL Can't Fine Me

I have a few things to say about the NFL fining Big Daddy P $15,000 for his criticism of the missed call in last week's game against the Broncos.

First, the world was up in arms about Ed Hochuli's botched call. Rightfully so, but at least he had a bad angle for making the call, and that one's been screwed up in the past. This wasn't a judgment call. This wasn't a bad angle. The line judge just has to stand there and look. He calls it or not. There's no, "I didn't see it," bullshit. So he either just decided not to call it (and it was a very obvious infraction), or he was not paying attention (i.e. not doing his job) and thinking about something else. What was he thinking about? Maybe he was having wet daydreams about Hochuli. Or maybe he likes 'em big, and was wondering why, oh why, he couldn't stare at Hollis Thomas's meaty ass on the line anymore. Who knows. All I know is he blew it. And I didn't hear diddly about Norv Turner or anyone else being fined for criticizing the Hochuli thing. So what gives?

Second, it wasn't just that one call. The stupid PI call on Jason David was just not necessary. If anything, they should have tacked a few of those calls on to Brandon Marshall's ass.

Finally, I don't really condone whining about missed calls after a bad game, but I like that Payton did it. Why? Because he was pissed. I like this team pissed. He knew he would get fined, and he did it anyway. Whatever gets them fired up is good, especially after the serious lack of emotion welve seen the last 2 weeks. At least Shockey and his achey-breaky crotch had an excuse.

Now, back to your regularly scheduled pregame hooplah.

Hurts So Good

I'm still suffering from the damn football-induced hangover produced by the last two Sundays. Surprisingly, I don't feel as bad after this Sunday's loss, so I figured I'd post while I still can.

Then again . . . just as I began writing . . . this crap came out.

Every team gets banged up. Every team has players out. But no other team has as many key players out right now. And we won't go around whining about it. But there comes a point when you just have to say . . . . . . Damn.

First things first. Did I really hear some nut job call for the signing on one Mr. Alexander? Really??? You want to trade one banged-up-aging-back (sorry, Deuce) for another? Another that no other teams want to touch. That would be like . . . like . . . like signing Joey Harrington. I don't want to hear about the stupid running game anymore. We suck at it. Unless you count throwing to Little Lance once in a while and letting him get some YAC. Or Reggie (provided he stops dropping the damn ball). Just sit tight and let them do what they're good at. If you suck at cooking, would you show up at your favorite restaurant asking to work in the kitchen? Uh, no. So stop asking the Saints to run more.

Week 2 hurt a lot more than week 3. Why? Because we should have won week 2. And we sucked. Hard. Everyone had written off week 3, so to actually rally and make Denver actually look bad was cherry. But then again, we didn't look all that snazzy either. I'm over the missed kicks. Unless, of course, we just want to laugh about how we all knew this was going to happen and whether we think Marteen will have his bags packed before the next game . . . just in case. Don't count on Mehlhaff being asked back any time soon . . . remember how long it took them to ditch Olindo Mare. That's right. Buckle up, folks. It's gonna be a long season.

But all is certainly not lost. The Big Game goes to those teams with momentum at the end of the season (just ask the Giants). It could give a crap what you do or hw many players you have out right now. So be patient while they get all of this crap out of their system and everyone gets healthy, and we'll mop up on the back side of the schedule.

Number (Fifty-)Five Alive!!!

Was it perfect?
Nope.

Was it one hell of a fat-nasty, satisfying win?
Oh, yeah.

And who better to grab that interception to seal the victory? Holy crap, I couldn't have scripted that better myself.

I have nothing negative to say this morning. Well, I do, but I'm not going to say them, because I'm too busy drinking Kool-aid over here.

Set Your VCR for the Blood Bath

That's right, I don't have tivo. And since Cox can bite me, I didn't see the game Saturday night either. We let the 5-year-old stay up a wee bit late to listen to the first half on the radio, which was kind of nice but not the same. So all of you satellite folks, fire up the old vcr, and set it for 9am today to watch with your own eyes as dear old Carson gets bloodied to a pulp.

It was nice to HEAR the defense doing well, but I'm not fooled. The Bengals are in pitiful shape right now. With no one of any value to throw the ball to, of course our corners are going to look good. Hell, Jason David would have looked good starting last night (which would have been a bad, bad thing, so thank you Coach for not making that dumb ass move). And the d-line looked (I mean, sounded) great, but that's probably because Palmer stood back there way too long each play wondering what the hell he was going to do with the damn ball. I'm reserving judgment until I can see with my own eyes.