Ok, ya'll, stop it!  Enough is enough!  If I have to read one more faux draft pic, one more scouting report, or one more reason why Joe Schwartz is not good enough to replace Kenny Numbnuts on the practice squad of the Seattle Bears I'm going to blow my invisible dog's brains out!

Let's face it.  My mind is not wired to consider the caprice of the unknown and yet-to-happen.  If a rock is wet, it's raining.  If the rock is dry, guess what, it ain't freakin' raining.  Period.  My pondering for the day is done. 


Instead, I'd like to travel back in time to a much happier day.  A day that is forever imbedded in our memory because we will forever know where we were when it happened!  No, I'm not talking about Dave Saintsational getting his game credentials (although a most important event in the history of the Canal Street Chronicles).  There was something else going on in Miami that would change the lives of everyone reading this post.  The day the Saints were canonized.  The day the Football Gods smiled on a grassy plot and gave Drew the aim of a laser, our receivers the arms of an octopus, and Saints Fans around the world a reason to rethink the importance of sex. 

 Ahhhhhhh, yes.  I can see it now like it happened just yesterday . . . . . . . .

The Superbowl Party at 26 18' 10.15"N / 127 46' 06.14" W:

These were my bartenders.

It's a little fuzzy but, can you figure out who my waitress was?

My Saints Banner is hanging on a pole in the far upper right (to the left of the white lights).

Standing for the Star Spangled Banner.  Military clubs take that stuff pretty serious.

A family of Who Dats.

My table.  I brought a whistle and a flag just to keep the refs honest.

 Just 'Nother Saints Fan.

Yep.  Winning the Superbowl made me handsomer then I thought.

It's good to take a break from this Godawful off-season and do a little reminiscing, don't ya' think?

More wine, anyone???