With a little presidential election on the schedule Tuesday, it’s time to get presidential when scripting another Eagles’ autopsy.
Harry Truman once said that when you hear someone praying real loud, that is the time to lock up the smokehouse.
No wonder the praying in Iggles Nation is deafening this season.
And evidently falling on deaf ears.
The Eagles went to New Orleans Monday night and got hammered like the party-goers on Bourbon Street.
Despite amassing more yards than Oprah’s dress maker, they scored a paltry 13 points against the Saints, the worst defense in the NFL, and lost 28-13.
The Birds need divine intervention on so many fronts: They are abysmal in the red zone; their OL is a turnstile; their tackling is more porous than the Jersey beaches; their defensive front seven are seemingly glued to blocks; their secondary can’t cover, tackle or chew gum; and their beleaguered quarterback is sacked more than flour and dying to disappear into the Witness Protection Program.
Even worse, the Eagles are more apathetic and detached than a beautiful woman talking to a little nerdy guy with jug ears, squinty eyes and pizza-red acne.
Jeff Lurie this morning is shopping for a fork big enough to stick into Andy Reid.