Sniffing the regular season, and it smells like . . . Victory

I'm not a fan of preseason. It's just one long practice. The games' outcomes don't mean much. And teams don't want to risk injury but at the same time want their units to find rhythm and cohesion.

For the first-team starters, this should be happening by the third game of preseason. And it's definitely happening for us. On Saturday, like a 1980s elementary school principal paddling bastard kids who egged their school bus, we laid the wood to the Raiders and scored at will on our first three possessions for a 45-7 ass-whooping.

We were supposed to play into the third quarter. But we were pulled from the game before the middle of the second, with Coach saying "I've seen enough."

As for myself, I can't wait to see more. Everything's coming together and I feel as if I'm on the verge of a breakout season. I've got the best quarterback in the business chunking the rock in my direction; I'm on an offense with more deadly weapons than Uzbekistan has in its entire possession; and I'm developing a rapport with Drew Brees who says we're not only on the same page but we're developing a rapport.

And he's not shy to explain to me the definition of rapport, either.

Anyway, four catches for 48 yards for myself in just three series of work against Oakland and I'm ready to get this Redux mission rolling. If I were to average just that a game this season (56 catches, about 800 yards), I'd nearly match my last very good season -- 65 catches, 891 yards and seven touchdowns in 2005.

Enough about that, though. What's really got me and the rest of the offense excited (and I'm not naming names) is how the defense is showing marked improvement over last season. The defense might not be stifling, but for chrisssakes the turnovers are encouraging. Watching Pearson Prioleau (the best name on the team, by the way) strip the ball from Oakland's Richard Murphy and Usama Young, in his new role at safety, break to the ball for a near interception has got the O-line giddier than a fat boy who hears the ice cream truck jingling down his street. And I'll tell you why: this team is approaching this season with a more-improved running attack, and there's nothing the big men up front enjoy more than pushing some Butterballs off the ball and eating up the clock. Because that's what wins games in the fourth quarter.
 Devery Henderson also had a blow-up game. He's really turning it on, with even more improvement after his much-improved season last year. For chrissakes, what do defenses prepare for with Marques Colston, Reggie Bush, Lance Moore, Devery, Pierre Thomas and myself as threats?

 Get some, JaMarcus, from Bobby McCray!

From right to left, '70s style: Me, Reggie, and some broad who shoots topless

Rehab pool parties on Sundays at the Hard Rock Hotel in Las Vegas notwithstanding, Reggie and I occasionally like to relax together at the movies. So with camp winding down this week and starters like us preparing for our last big outing this preseason against Oakland on Saturday, Nos. 88 and 25 found the perfect opportunity tonight to slip away from 5800 Airline Dr. for a few hours and catch Quentin Tarantino's latest beat-down instructional.

Yes, RSVPs at titty bars and Halo on Fridays will have to wait. For it's not the regular season. Until then, it's Inglorious Bastuhds.

Here's what I came away with: I.B. is a good talky. Talk, talk, talk. And then blow a little shit up. Watch The Bear Jew bash a Nazi. But just once. And too quickly.

And that's the problem with this movie. It's too broad. It's too far-reaching. It's without the buddy development that Lee Marvin, Charles Bronson and Jim Brown portrayed in the movie it's supposed to pay homage to. Instead of watching Brad Pitt's Lt. Aldo Raine and The Bear Jew and Hugo Stiletz -- played by that funny drug dealer in SLC Punk! who tried to shoot that floating car on the Great Salt Lake into submersion -- pulverize and tenderize Nazis for a couple of hours in the north and south of France, while maybe fighting amongst themselves ala-Dirty Dozen style, we're directed instead to a cinametheque operated by a Jewess and her black boyfriend. We're directed to a blathering Hitler who doesn't castrate but takes way too long to tell a private not to mention again The Bear Jew.

Tarantino wants it both ways. He gives you pure direction and stiff writing in the opening sequence, then sensation with the introduction of the Bastuhds. And just when you get comfortable with sensation -- you could of gave us more from other Bastuhds characters, Tarantino, at the very least Hugo -- he gives us long scenes of his signature dialogue, albeit with some psychological interplay between a couple of characters who are nearly underscored by the previous schlock.

Let's just say Christoph Waltz, who plays the "Jew Hunter", is by far the funnest to watch here. Col. Hans Landa. Dude is slippery cool. And I loved the way he moved from German to French to English to Italian. Skills like that and a playa not need a NFL contract.

And then there's that trilingual German broad who wears a high-heeled leg cast at the end. I don't speak German, but put her together with the Jewess, and to them I'd say all I know in French: menage a trois.

There's also a good bar scene that's played out during the latter half of the movie. But for the faux pas that apparently gives away a German-speaking British intelligence officer to a German officer, I hold up my forefinger, middle finger and ring finger -- together -- and say read between the lines. Good scene tension but the conclusion took way too long.

So that's my Bastuhds movie review. I don't normally do movie reviews, but I was moved enough by the incongruous stylistic direction of Tarantino's latest to share my piece on the flick. And blogging about it helps keep my mind off of easily had RSVP-gash. Which I've sworn off until I catch a TD in Black and Gold.

And then I'll inevitably begin a run.

Mike Bell's about to break out!

What if Mike Bell, who in the second pre-season game juked and jived the Houston Texans for 100 yards on 10 carries, can run like that six or eight times this season? And I'm not talking about having a half-dozen long TD runs, similar to his 46-yard follow-the-blocking-and-cut-brilliantly scamper on Saturday. But really, what if he actually breaks out this year and rushes for at least a 1,000?

Based on what I saw Saturday, why can't he?

Think about it.

Couple that with the expected output from Bush and Pierre, and I get giddier than The Bear Jew anticipating a Nazi bashing. And that's because of all the unmentioned intangibles.

However slightly, the defense has improved. Put that alongside the game's most explosive passing offense with a RB trio that so far promises to improve to at least NFL-middling-quality, and every opposing team's offense will find itself off the field for at least a few more minutes each game, giving QB Drew Brees and Co. plenty of cushion as they pass and catch for about 30 TDs.

Hey, I'm part of that Co. too. And though I didn't catch one of Drew's 34 last season, I'm getting at least a baker's half dozen this year. Who Dat!

But back to you Bell: Here's to you.

As for the rest of you NFC South mofos (Gonzalez, Winslow): Put that in your pipe and smoke it!

DeMeco's got it coming, son.

It took a lot to hold off on this post. But with less than 24 hours to go before some Houston middle linebacker-thrashing time, I just wanted to remind everyone who has the upperhand: me. mofos. I GAh-rON-TEE. Me and Drew ain't even hiding that shit.

DeMeco: You're gonna get yours before the first quarter is over.

Red Hook: keep making thems tasty Long Hammers. . . . . BOOYAH! (ready for game time, is all) #88

Gotta get the lead out . . .

OK Saintsnation, this is what I have in store for you: 80 catches this season, 6 touchdowns, and a big wide-open target for Drew.

I'm back! And I'm ready to roll up some DBs with the rock in my hands, just like the old days. And I thank the Lord for having Drew Brees as my pilot.

So here's 5 things I think I think will get this team steamrolling in 2009, including my improved performance:

1. Reggie is hitting the holes great this training camp and I see a great mis-match in the backfield between him and Pierre Thomas for opposing defenses. This backfield is gonna surprise people.

2. Drew and Colston are gonna blow up. We're injury free, including me, and though our backfield will be better, Drew will pass close to 5,000 yards again. No matter what.

3. Our defense is stiff. And it's gonna help us win games this year. I predict 30 3-and-outs this season -- look out! That's all Drew and Co. need to keep the ball rolling and your def. coord. scolding. Ha, ha, ha, (eagle tattoo: squawk! squawk!), ha, ha, ha, ha.

4. John Carney just gets older and colder.

5. Jason Witten, Chris Cooley -- get Shockeyed! Prepare for a Pro Bowl shakeup. And Tony Gonzalez and Kellen Winslow, I ain't even thinking about you in the slightest. Welcome to the NFC. Baahhhrrruuuuummmmpppppp! (I stop drinking Crown when training camp starts, but sometimes Busch beer gets the best of me.)