Big news in the football world today.  Before the ink could dry on the Redskins' move to acquire legendary ballroom dancer Jason Taylor, the Saints one-upped them by getting tight end Jeremy Shockey from the Saints Giants [Der -Ed.]for the bargain price of two draft picks (second-round and fifth-round).  Well, it's not really a bargain at all.  But it could conceivably end up being fair-ish, as long as Shockey produces the way he says he can.  Which he won't.  But he'll still probably have a couple of good games.

So, yeah: Jeremy Shockey in New Orleans.  This must be an exciting time for Saints fans.  In the way that flying to an island full of dinosaurs was exciting for those two kids in Jurassic Park.  I'm sure everything will turn out juuuuuuuuuuust fine.

[Kissing Suzy Kolber] 

Giants tight end Jeremy Shockey spent his bye week in his collegiate home of Miami (somehow this was preferable to his native Oklahoma. Hmm…), where he relaxed with friends and probably did some unspeakable things to girls in tube tops held up by breast implants.  He also handled a rude fan confrontation with aplomb.

Shockey had come in [to a restaurant] after spending the day fishing and was minding his own business, our spy said, when the troublemaker approached him. "Jeremy was with a few friends, and to his credit he kept his cool," we're told. "But then, he gets up to go to the bathroom and we see chairs flying and the guy gets his butt kicked." When Shockey came back he appeared as though "he was trying to break it up," said the witness. "But not before he swipes the University of Miami hat off the head of the guy's friend, telling him he's a disgrace to the school. The guy who originally picked the fight with Shockey was arrested after running down Alton Road. Shockey's friends rushed him out of the bar and onto a nearby boat."

You know, I've always thought Shockey was a retarded meathead, but it turns out he might be some kind of genius.  Yes, he "went to the bathroom," where I'm guessing he fixed his hair for a couple minutes, hummed a tune to himself, put his ear to the door to make sure there were the appropriate crashing sounds, then rushed to the scene to "break things up," a mere minute too late to save his heckler's face from being pounded in.

And the getaway boat?  Very nice touch.  That's the great thing about Miami.  Everywhere you go there's a canal.  Or an inlet.  Or a fjord. 

Okay, for this post I need everyone to be sitting down, because what I'm about to write will shock you to the very core: Giants tight end Jeremy Shockey enjoys drinking and making out with girls.  I know!  I couldn't believe it myself, but a tipster sent along these photos in an email that read, in part:

I thought that I would share some pictures my friend took a while back while partying in NYC.  I can assure u 100% that this is Jeremy Shockey drunk off his ass hooking up with 18 year olds.  The girl in the pictures is one of my friends and she tells me some crazy stories about his antics.

Naturally, the tipster doesn't tell me about any of the "crazy stories" or "antics" or even when "a while back" is (though I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess last Halloween), so I'm gonna have to fill in the details with my imagination.  And lemme tell you, my imagination kicks ass.  It says Shockey passed out after these pictures were taken, and I took both of the girls home to an evening of erotic delight, with guest appearances from handcuffs, a neoprene jumpsuit, and all the contents of my vegetable crisper.  I rule!

In an unexpected development, Jeremy Shockey spent his last night before training camp at the strip club.  Shockey took a bunch of teammates to Scores in preparation of the Giants' upcoming 7-9 season.

One dancer told Page Six, "Jeremy said he was being the big brother and treating them all to a night of fun. This was going to be their last chance to stay out late." "Jeremy is the coolest," said Scores dancer Devin. "He complimented me on my new boob job, which makes me a 36D."

Women are putty in the hands of a silver-tongued smooth talker like Jeremy Shockey.  He's like a combination of James Bond and Oscar Wilde, except wittier and 100% straight.

Perhaps one day I'll graduate to the level of complimenting strippers' breast implants.  I usually try to distract them with something shiny, or if I have coke, I say, "I have coke!"  Then I'm Mr. Popular.  Even Ruby loves me back for the next twenty minutes or so.  Which, really, is more than enough time.

Oh, Jeremy Shockey. Where do I begin with this guy? During Sunday's warm-ups, after dislocating a finger so badly that the bone broke through his skin, he told the team's trainers to just cut the finger off (they chose stitches instead of amputation).

Following the game — the Giants blew a 21-0 fourth quarter lead, perhaps you've heard? — Shockey remained undaunted by the team's next opponent, the NFC East-leading Cowboys.

"No one's beat us. We only beat ourselves… No one is capable of hanging around when we play our game. People seen that when we played the Cowboys the first time [a 36-22 Giants win in Dallas]. There is no way they have a chance in hell to beat us when we play our football. And that is the truth. No other team in this league."

Nevemind that that last win came over a Bledsoe-led Cowboys team… wow. To suck so hard in such bad losses (I'm also reminded of an earlier blowout in Seattle) and to not even blink: I can only call that Rumsfeldian.

Somehow I don't think it would be fun to hang out with Shockey on a Friday night. I can't help but think that the night would devolve into shots of Three Wise Men and getting called "you fuckin' pussy" for not wanting to do pull-ups off the side of the Queensboro Bridge.

For once it's not just the tabloids beating up on the Giants. After that epic collapse to the Titans, everyone's dissecting just how fucked Tom Coughlin is and how much Eli Manning sucks.

Long-winded egghead Gregg Eaterbrook spent seemingly half of his 9000-word TMQ column on Coughlin's failures (the other half was about astronomy and physics), and a high-ranking Giants official says that the oft-second-guessed Coughlin now faces a team mutiny, which I think we can all agree would be pretty awesome, especially if it ends with Coughlin hanging from the yardarm and Jeremy Shockey wearing a Motorola headset, brow furrowed as he reads a laminated play card upside-down.

The nail in the coffin is the New York Times's examination of the team's body language. It had two experts, Tonya Reiman and Maxine Lucille Fiel, watch tape of the G-Men Sunday in Tennessee.

“Even when they were winning, their body language wasn’t all that good,” Reiman said. “They seem to have a defeatist attitude. You see disagreement and restrained anger… It was such a lack of effort, a lack of spirit. I didn’t understand it.”

So what can the Giants do to save their season? According to Fiel,

“They need to get that other No. 10, that guy from Tennessee — Young… He’s so joyous, so joyful. You can feel his joy just watching him. He has so much energy. He’s like a dancer. Maybe he can inspire the Giants.”

Sounds like it should be pretty easy. All the Giants need to do is go back in time and draft Young. Or maybe Philip Rivers. Whatever the case, time travel is the solution. Just like always.