Some things are quintessentially Philadelphian. The Eagles reaching the NFC Championship game three years running and never breaking through is a perfect example: lots of energy, lots of hope, just a taste of insecurity, and in the end, no prize.
Maybe it’s because the city sits between the glamour of New York and the power of Washington … maybe it’s because Philly is, in its soul, still a blue collar labor town … but the vibe here is still very much the vibe of the “cutters” … the kids in Breaking Away who never went to college, instead working in the local quarry or mill, and who look at their college-attending peers with a mix of longing and disgust.
The cutters make up for their edge of insecurity, of course … by living larger than the college kids could hope to live. And so do people here. How else do you explain something like the Mummers? And in that spirit, yesterday Philadelphia enjoyed an event which I consider the most Philadelphian of Philadelphia stories: Wing Bowl XII — 24,000 Philadelpians crowding the Wachovia Center to watch the Buffalo Wing eating competition to end all Buffalo Wing eating competitions. We don't got no Super Bowl, but by God, we got this. Read about it here, and here, and here, or watch video here, and be properly amazed.
Yeah … I know I've not posted in a week (here … posts galore over at CP). But the pain of the Eagles crash-landing took my spirit for a few days, and then I was in Chicago, and then … well, nevermind.
So go ahead Michele, torture me all you want. It's putting up with your emails that gives me superior Karma, which presents itself as consistently amazing parking luck.
I do have some goodies from the game, though, and will post them here directly.
Further, the officers noted that “Salamone’s pants were unbuttoned and unzipped.”
I'm just sayin'.
Hello from Minneapolis. Winter here, but if you check out the Philly web cam in the left-hand column, you'll see it's even more Winter in back home.
Good thing we got Wife that snow blower.
Also, my other gig … that place … (sort of like “that woman”?) is the main reason I've been a bit absent here lately … Jeff Jarvis said we edit the world, and sometimes that's a big job (especially for a hobby).
But we also had the Mosley Braun exit at 12:20 PM last night, before CNN. So at least we've got that going for us. Which is nice.
Yes, we're still here … wrapped warmly in our little home as the icy Pennsylvania winter tries to seep in under the door and windowsills. Tonight ours is a house divided … with Wife wearing her cheesehead and I my wings. The next two hours will mean much for the next week.
Here's something you probably don't think of checking every day, as you consider the sky outside your home on your way to work: the weather report for our buggy on Mars. Curious? Check the local Mars weather here.
Those who know Wife and me know we … well … we drink beer. We drink A LOT of beer. That said: Go buy a case of Dogfish Head beer. Get the Tackle Box sampler. You won't regret it. I've nuzzled up to bottle of the Raison D'Etre to accompany the AFC Wildcard, and damn. (Does the 8% ABV help? Probably.)
I won't bother with all the “hint of earthiness” and “taste of hoppiness” BS. Just go buy some. Four out of four empties.
Good question … at home, which is a nice change of pace for the usual regimen of travel. Watching football … spending lots of time in front of the PS2, hanging with Tiger and Psymon and Donovan, and with hockey-crazed Wife, Scotty … it all, it’s been a wonderful week.
I have been blogging, mind you, but have spent nearly all of that time at Command Post, tracking the air security threat in particular. So if you just can’t live without my scintillating prose, go there.
I have not been on an airplane in 16 days, and frankly, it’s been wonderful. That said, I’m feeling ready to get in the saddle again … and a sure as the sun will rise, I will be in Chicago next week.
But tonight, we continue the party. Hope you do, too.
