FI-FIE-FO-FUM! I’m sure Coolio was thrilled with his 2017 status to be performing at the biggest white trash venue North of the Mason-Dixon line.
Ahhhh The Wing Bowl. The one event that reinforces every single negative Philadelphian stereotype for 25 years and counting. Because there’s nothing like a gaggle of 20K+ degenerates taking off work to get hammered at 4am in frostbite temperatures. All solely to watch the morning shift strippers and a couple competitive eaters puke all over themselves. I’m not saying I’m proud about it (in fact it’s the exact opposite feeling), but it is what it is. Maybe if they’d throw us a championship more than once every 30 years this wouldn’t be necessary. One would think age and maturity of humanity would subdue the savagery that is Wing Bowl. Nope. Like clockwork every year, The ol’ Delco Trash parade strikes again.
However, Ric Flair came in scorching with the most outstandingly savage quote this side of Pat Burrell. Gotta love it.
Other than that, not really much to see other than the normal creeps ogling over girls who could be their granddaughters and St. Joe’s kids skipping class to chug Everclear in the parking lot. Par for the Philly course. Haven’t seen a brawl yet, but I’m sure we’ll get there. Oh, there were midgets fake wrestling, too. I guess that’s cool.
PS – People are asking why I didn’t make it down this year and for that I give one simple response: After the pasts 3 years covering the (same exact fucking) event, I am officially retired from Wing Bowl. The banner has been lifted into the rafters, even if the real reason is all of our production resources are in Houston. In all honesty, the last go round didn’t end up so hot for yours truly. This was 8:24 in the morning, hence why you gotta love the MC. The bum on the bull? Not so much
Somehow that beast hurt me less than Deliliah’s and Sugarhouse did before noon on that fateful day.