To be honest, I'm trying my damnedest to block out the mental image. With increasingly realistic dreams of a Lombardi Trophy already dancing in the head of the Who Dat Nation, the thought of 'Choppa Style' ringing out through the speakers as the Saints absolutely rip right through the rug of their hated rivals and go full-Rick James all over ever inch of their couch is almost too much to handle. You thought sending some wine and a broom to the Panthers was bad? Ha! I can't even begin to comprehend what type of mockery Sean Payton might have up his sleeve if left to experience the highest of highest in the locker room of those suffering from the lowest of lows. Hell, the better question is, what would wouldn't he do in turning up the heat in an attempt to make Atlanta's bad blood boil? I don't have the answer, so as to not overwork my imagination, I simply have to suppress the circumstances surrounding these Super Bowl aspirations. There's obviously no love lost between the Saints and Falcons, but the ensuing social media footage would be the football equivalent of videotaping yourself sleeping with your worst enemy's dream girl in his bed and then sending it to him. That's a level of resentment that is logistically without an equal and opposite in terms of retribution. I don't care how much Dan Quinn downplays it. Having your worst nightmare realized is not something that any team could ever fully recover from in the short term, never mind one that still stepping on shards of its shattered spirit following 28-3. I've been calling this season Sean Payton's Picasso of pettiness for awhile now, as this team is mentally molded in his arrogantly antagonistic likeness. Well, if (being the operative word, of course) this were to come to fruition, there wouldn't be a more fitting way for him to sign it authentic with a master stroke than to show the Falcons what their franchise has been missing from the comfort of their own home. For a team that doesn't just love winning, but also loves salting the wounds they've caused in doing so, it seems like the sassiest of Super Bowl celebrations in a house in which they are unwelcome would be the perfect ending. Until it's reached, however, I still have to consider it a little too perfect. Seeing Falcons fans squirm and sweat at the possibility for so long as it still exists would make for quite the consolation prize, but there's still a lot of work to be done before we're talking ultimate prize.
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