The season is upon us.

In more ways than one. Break out the Pepto for:

• I watched the first Saints preseason game with the familiar sounds of Jim Henderson barely making their way from the WWL tower to my crappy AM antenna. It's far superior than any TV announcer duo, even with the few seconds of delay between the radio signal and the action on-screen. I call upon anyone who has the know-how to produce a device that can delay an audio signal by a variable amount of time to step forward. Adjustable-frequency high- and low-pass filters would also be useful. Bring it, nerdy sports fans.
• Specific to the football: Brunell, thank you for not sucking. Jason David, why do you even show up? The big kids will just pick on you. All in all, the offense shows continuing promise if we can win a game with our TE being the go-to receiver. Defense? You're going to have another rough road if a mediocre Carson Palmer gives me the jitters.
• Welcome to tropical weather season. So far nothing on the trusty NHC map looks too foreboding (unless Bill doesn't make that curve to the open Atlantic as predicted). I have a little more trepidation about hurricane season #1 as a homeowner, though. Making sure the rent's paid up before hauling ass with a car-full of stuff? Entertaining. Cringing at the notion of "hurricane deductible"? Not so much. (Yes, our house is above sea level - elevation 25, to be exact. Yes, we bought flood insurance anyway.)

In other news, we performed a drive-by-frogging in retaliation for the drive-by-gnoming we received a couple of weeks back. It seems we are engaged in game of "my shitty suburban plastic lawn decoration is far more embarrassing than your back-shelves-of-Home-Depot-schlock." In Alabama, we find ways of keeping ourselves entertained.