Welcome to the City of Brotherly Love . . .
or, the City that was once, but may never be again.
Why you ask, my curious little friend. Because, Philly is, and ever will be, the little engine that couldn't. Not because, the mountain's too high or the valley too low, but because the conductor seems constantly on the take and the passengers all too willing to ride a steaming shit train into a monolith of corrupt mediocrity, with no light at the end of the tunnel.
And, even when it isn't outright graft that foils our intentions, it is the blessing of acute myopia and half-assed ambition that determines our course. I could spout a list of well-known stumbles on Philly's magnificent road to what could've been; how we constantly tear our own guts from an ever crumbling skeleton like a rusted scythe separating the chaff from the wheat, but I think one little example tells the tale.
What once was a glorious tribute to the common Philadelphia man, the new Wing Bowl is a testament to vainglorious failure. Sure, we know every year the Eagles will fall short of winning the Super Bowl, but the Wing Bowl was our kind of show. Drunken debauchery, wanton lechery, gluttony the scope of which no Californian could ever comprehend. . . . .Fat men eating wings at five in the morning surrounded by a lethal combination of drunken longshoremen, foolhardy students, and slumming corporate execs. Certainly the opportunity for mass carnage is there, but the risk is worth the reward. That was, until they changed the format this year.
What used to be a gratis admission, come if you have the balls, hang-over for free, guaranteed ass-whippin' good time has been ruined. WIP, the sports radio host of the event, decided to charge admission. Admittedly, a nominal fee of $5, but the small cost exacts a huge toll on the spirit of the event. The screwheads found a way to make a few more bucks, bucks which they are guaranteed through obscene pre-dawn beer sales, but bucks nonetheless.
Now, the true crusaders of over-indulgence will be out. Not priced out, but planned out. Planned out by the dweebs who heard about it on the radio and ran to Ticketmaster to buy a ticket. That sort of organization is the very antithesis of the event. Planned out by the yuck yuck corporate fatheads who think it'll be just a "hoot" to take their clients. "Hey Bob, it's better than the zoo." Of course, they have replaced the true animals so the Corporate dinks will only be staring at their own kind. No longer will it be necessary to roll out of a bar Thursday night and head to the parking lot to get in line. That necessity, once removed, will take the fear out of those unworthy to attend. The guys that make Wing Bowl great don't think ahead. God willing, they don't think at all. They just do. And that's the type of scum you want to cheer men on to puking if at all possible.
It's those men who bore the tax burden for the new stadiums in the first place. Why take away their greatest pleasure? By embracing the Corporate, plan it all crowd, Wing Bowl has turned its back on the kick-ass, blue-collar core of the city. We're not New York. What we did have was authenticity. Now that remaining vestige of dignity has been whored out for a Lincoln.
Why you ask, my curious little friend. Because, Philly is, and ever will be, the little engine that couldn't. Not because, the mountain's too high or the valley too low, but because the conductor seems constantly on the take and the passengers all too willing to ride a steaming shit train into a monolith of corrupt mediocrity, with no light at the end of the tunnel.
And, even when it isn't outright graft that foils our intentions, it is the blessing of acute myopia and half-assed ambition that determines our course. I could spout a list of well-known stumbles on Philly's magnificent road to what could've been; how we constantly tear our own guts from an ever crumbling skeleton like a rusted scythe separating the chaff from the wheat, but I think one little example tells the tale.
What once was a glorious tribute to the common Philadelphia man, the new Wing Bowl is a testament to vainglorious failure. Sure, we know every year the Eagles will fall short of winning the Super Bowl, but the Wing Bowl was our kind of show. Drunken debauchery, wanton lechery, gluttony the scope of which no Californian could ever comprehend. . . . .Fat men eating wings at five in the morning surrounded by a lethal combination of drunken longshoremen, foolhardy students, and slumming corporate execs. Certainly the opportunity for mass carnage is there, but the risk is worth the reward. That was, until they changed the format this year.
What used to be a gratis admission, come if you have the balls, hang-over for free, guaranteed ass-whippin' good time has been ruined. WIP, the sports radio host of the event, decided to charge admission. Admittedly, a nominal fee of $5, but the small cost exacts a huge toll on the spirit of the event. The screwheads found a way to make a few more bucks, bucks which they are guaranteed through obscene pre-dawn beer sales, but bucks nonetheless.
Now, the true crusaders of over-indulgence will be out. Not priced out, but planned out. Planned out by the dweebs who heard about it on the radio and ran to Ticketmaster to buy a ticket. That sort of organization is the very antithesis of the event. Planned out by the yuck yuck corporate fatheads who think it'll be just a "hoot" to take their clients. "Hey Bob, it's better than the zoo." Of course, they have replaced the true animals so the Corporate dinks will only be staring at their own kind. No longer will it be necessary to roll out of a bar Thursday night and head to the parking lot to get in line. That necessity, once removed, will take the fear out of those unworthy to attend. The guys that make Wing Bowl great don't think ahead. God willing, they don't think at all. They just do. And that's the type of scum you want to cheer men on to puking if at all possible.
It's those men who bore the tax burden for the new stadiums in the first place. Why take away their greatest pleasure? By embracing the Corporate, plan it all crowd, Wing Bowl has turned its back on the kick-ass, blue-collar core of the city. We're not New York. What we did have was authenticity. Now that remaining vestige of dignity has been whored out for a Lincoln.
2 Comments:
Yes, it's working!!(*_*)
Jason, I'm really sorry to hear about this tale of woe. And to think that I've never even been to Wing Bowl, and now it is too late. Do they have Wing Bowl in DC?
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