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It's your old buddy Rob Ryan. I'm here at Ms. Mae's killing time during the off-season.
I'm pumped to be Grand Marshal in Argus but the off-season isn't just about drinking, throwing beads to hot women, and walking around Jazzfest shirtless and buzzed. No sir. It's about improving the fourth ranked defense so we can kick that no-good, annoying, son-of-a-bitch, 9/11 truther Pete Carroll's ass.
I'm going to give you guys at Canal Street Chronicles a peak behind the curtain at what I think of defensive players the Saints might draft.
I don't give a flying f--- about offense. That's Sean's deal. I treat offense like diets, barbers, and responsible drinking: I know they exist, but in my reality they might as well be unicorns. So I'll be periodically checking in with player breakdowns and ideas on how to make our defense a cold-blooded killing machine.
First guy who really excites me is Michael Sam of Missouri. He's been in the news a lot because he came out and said he likes guys. Don't bother me none. I believe who a man sleeps with is his own business and it's between himself, God, and his credit card.
Let's breakdown the reasons the Saints should totally pick Sam, the big, ass-kicking, gay football player.
First, dude had double-digit sacks in the SEC at Missouri. Hell, I didn't even know Missouri was a state much less had a football team. Getting double-digit sacks at Missouri is some sort of miracle. It's like turning water into Rolling Rock. I LOVE ROLLING ROCK.
/orders four Rolling Rocks
Also dude is smart. Did you see that announcement that he was gay? That was some smooth PR-type stuff right there. Sam chatted up ESPN, leaked it to a couple of places, then went back to work. He's not out talking to Mario Lopez on Access Hollywood or chatting with Mike and Mike at 5:45 a.m. everyday. He has his priorities in line. He knows you don't get blackout drunk on Bourbon Street until the work is done.
I myself love the gays. When I was in college in Oklahoma, a gay dance company came through doing the Broadway show ‘Cats.' Well after the show they challenged Rex and me to a beer pong match. Things GOT CRAZY. Who knew 120-pound men could drink so damn much and were so great at ping pong? Stereotyping people will get you wasted man.
I'm not sure what exactly happened but I woke up in a fountain in downtown Tulsa WITHOUT PANTS and with a ribbon tied around my neck and a 'thank you' card saying, "You BOOMED MY SOONER."
I miss college.
The only reason I can think of not to draft Michael Sam is he might be the gay version of Martez Wilson. Bless Martez's heart but he was so dumb he couldn't count to zero or line up onsides on special teams.
If Sam is there in the fifth round, I'm standing on the table in the war room and I'm singing every show tune I know until Mickey Loomis agrees to take Michael Sam.
Until next time may your beer be cold, your chicken wings spicy, and your women gorgeous.
