The Four Horsemen are back in the saddle

Outlined against a blue-gray May sky, the Four Horsemen ride again. In dramatic lore they are known as Famine, Pestilence, Destruction and Death.

These are only aliases.

Their real names are Trump, Mueller, Giuliani and Cohen.


A false spring

What in the name of Stormy Daniels is going on around here?

March has served up more Nor’easters than tulips.

I don’t know whether to blame Donald Trump or Robert Mueller or Cecily Tynan or Hurricane Schwartz.

Going to the dogs

Some folks have the most redeemable, adorable qualities. They restore your faith in the human condition.

Then there are people like Cavan McDaniel, who likely won’t be named Humanitarian of the Year.

Cops in Florida say McDaniel assaulted a convenience store attendant with a barrage of hot dogs.

God, I hope she’s not a vegan.

According to a police statement on the arrest, witnesses told deputies that McDaniel was upset because the attendant would not sell him beer.

The victim then told deputies that McDaniel threw hot dogs at her and poked her in the face with a corn dog stick, leaving a red mark under an eye.

Another black eye for mankind.

The Eagles fly to a Super Bowl title on a daredevil flight

Live long enough and you’re liable to see the improbable, hell, impossible become reality.

The last time the Philadelphia Eagles won a world championship I was 11 and listened to them beat the Vince Lombardi Green Bay Packers on the radio because the 1960 NFL title game was blacked out in Philly.

Then came Sunday night’s spectacularly astonishing 41-33 Eagles’ Super Bowl victory over the New England Patriots when both offenses were electrifying and both defenses rested their case.

This time there was no incredible Patriots’ comeback. This time QB12, also known as Tom Brady the G.O.A.T., didn’t pull it out with a miracle. Despite throwing for an incredible 505 yards, his Hail Mary went unanswered as his 60-yard heave on the final play bounced off a bunch of hands and onto the Patriots’ logo in the end zone.

The Eagles were champions of the world for the first time in 58 years.

Eagles coach Doug Pederson, a swashbuckling gambler who has evolved into a master play caller, outwitted The Hoodie. And Nick Foles was dropping dimes with aplomb and throwing deep with uncanny accuracy.

Tom may be beating Time but he couldn’t beat the Eagles.

For Philly was a team of destiny. And you can’t screw with destiny.

Foles, Eagles are barking Super Bowl

Pardon me if I’m a little tipsy with the intoxication of the moment, but the Eagles are going to the Super Bowl!

Imagine that because nobody in hell – or heaven – ever imagined that back in August.

Remember that dark day when wunderkind Carson Wentz went down with a shredded ACL and folks thought that the Birds’ season went up in smoke?

Guess what? They were not down to their last cigarette.

Courtesy of Nick Foles, who once upon a time had a fairy tale season of his own under Chip Kelly with the Eagles.

In the NFC conference championship game Sunday night against the favored Vikings, Foles had a supernova of a game. He rode an awesome wave all evening, one of those galactic explosions of white light that simply consumes everything else.

He entered the game with circumstances putting him squarely in the crosshairs. If what he had wrought in the game had gone down in flames, he would have been the first one incinerated.

Instead he burned that vaunted Vikings’ D, going a do-you-freaking-believe-this 26 of 33 for 352 yards, three touchdowns, no picks and an astounding 141.4 passing rating in a resounding 38-7 ass-whupping.

So much for the Eagles being underdogs.

Sunday night we heard the howl of the wolf — OK, dog — and the bleat of the lamb.

Besides Foles and his electric offense, the Eagles’ defense gobbled up the Vikings like a starving wolf tracking down a pork chop.

Granted, the Eagles face a daunting task in the Super Bowl when they confront the immortal Tom Brady and the dynastic Patriots. Once again they will be characterized as underdogs.

But these underdogs have one percussive bite.

Hey Eagles, who let the dogs out?

Professional athletes amuse me. They play lousy and then feel disrespected when people doubt them.

The Eagles more than fit the stereotype going into their NFC divisional playoff Saturday with the Falcons.

Philly had limped through the end of the regular season, with Nick Foles sailing ducks all over the field and the defense losing some of its bite.

So the top-seeded Eagles were underdogs against the sixth-seeded and peaking Falcons. Logical indeed.

If that lit a fire under the Eagles, it must have been one helluva big match.

The Eagles’ defense was tighter than a clam with lockjaw, and demonstrated valiant resiliency and resolve in an incredible goal-line stand to close it out.

Foles, after a nervous start, finished 23 of 30 for 246 yards and several crucial third-down conversion passes. Foles can’t spin it or run it like Carson Wentz, but he did enough to get by and didn’t throw any killer picks.

The end result was juicier than a summer peach, a 15-10 Eagles’ victory that vaults them into next Sunday’s NFC title game.

Which, of course, is one step away from the Super Bowl.

Does Philly still believe in St. Nick?

Man, the Eagles’ offense absolutely was coyote ugly in their lucky-as-hell 19-10 non-loss to the ragtag Raiders Monday night.

Yep, I know the Birds clinched home-field advantage through the playoffs, etc.

But they hardly are peaking despite their NFL-best 13-2 record.

Once the playoffs begin, it’s the peaking teams, not necessarily the top-seeded teams, that prevail in the Super Bowl derby.

And was that any way for St. Nick to perform on Christmas Night? Nick Foles totally was out of sync with his wide receivers.

If they don’t introduce themselves by the first playoff game, it could be one and done for the Eagles, who commit too many blunders and whose DBs often break their ankles trying to cover double moves.