Anyone who turns on ESPN for even five seconds should always be prepared to get milk-blasted in the face by the fertile, swinging teets of the List Wolf. But even knowing that I was sort of taken aback by what I just saw. Some slick reporter in driving gloves sets up outside the Eagles stadium with a crowd of fans gathered behind him to hype the upcoming game. So far nothing too egregious (although clamoring to get on screen from the back of a crowd at one of these things is pretty bad). So the douche tosses back to his back-slapping boys in the studio, but before he does he holds up a prop for all to admire and takes a bite while the crowd cheers for it. If you can't guess what it was then you've probably never heard anyone talk about Philadelphia for more than zero seconds. That's right, dude was chomping on a Philly Cheese Steak.
That's weird enough in the first place. Why would a reporter decide to get a quick snack in at that moment? I mean aside from most reporters' reflexive, ingrained penchant for knee jerk cliche. But he was wielding this shit like a conquering knight hoisting Excalibur over a crowd of trembling serfs. And to make things worse, he took the phoniest bite I've ever seen before in my life (and I've been out to dinner with plenty of dudes on secret chaz trying to tough it out through a fancy dinner), then he flashed this proud, self-satisfied, shit-eating grin.
Come to think of it, he could just as well have literally been eating a shit sandwich with cheese so long as it was excrement of the homegrown Philly variety, because that's what they were worshiping here. Not the food itself, but the idea that it comes from somewhere some people happen to be tangentially related to in some convoluted way or that comes from a neighborhood they've walked through a few times.
Every region has something like this. Buffalo makes the best chicken wings oh my god guys! And the tacos in Southern California? You have never lived until you've tried one! Bratwurst in Chicago am I right? New York City Pie!!!111!! And the South has like, what, Mountain Dew baby formula? Not sure on that one. In Boston we've got seafood and beans. We even called this dump Beantown for a while. (Think about that one for a second). But Philly is the absolute worst. We get it already dudes. You put cheese-whiz on the steak. When they cut to a shot of a crowd in Boston at some sporting event you don't see kids jumping in front of the camera with lobsters clamped on our tits.
The world, in case you haven't noticed, has become very small. And while regional differences still exist, it's safe to say that by this point the recipes for mass-produced, bourgeoisie comfort food aren't top secret anymore. I could walk down the street right now and find a half dozen restaurants with an African born German chef who trained at the top sushi restaurants in Paris serving a traditional Spanish peasant's stew he learned about traveling through Italy. It's probably not that hard to mimic the drizzling fake cheese over shaved steak techniques we all remember so fondly from some turd-water diner in Philly.
It's the same instinct at work here that is responsible for a lot of List-worthy behavior. Just because you have fond memories of something doesn't mean it was the same life-changing shit for everyone else. Just because your first time trying something happened in a specific location doesn't mean those were the ideal circumstances under which all subsequent similar experiences must be held in comparison.
The first time I ever learned how to jerk off was by playing around with some sun tan lotion accidentally when I was young. That doesn't mean it's ok for me to get a boner every time I smell coconut for the rest of my life. I mean, I still do, but it's not ok.
Come to think of it, he could just as well have literally been eating a shit sandwich with cheese so long as it was excrement of the homegrown Philly variety, because that's what they were worshiping here. Not the food itself, but the idea that it comes from somewhere some people happen to be tangentially related to in some convoluted way or that comes from a neighborhood they've walked through a few times.
Every region has something like this. Buffalo makes the best chicken wings oh my god guys! And the tacos in Southern California? You have never lived until you've tried one! Bratwurst in Chicago am I right? New York City Pie!!!111!! And the South has like, what, Mountain Dew baby formula? Not sure on that one. In Boston we've got seafood and beans. We even called this dump Beantown for a while. (Think about that one for a second). But Philly is the absolute worst. We get it already dudes. You put cheese-whiz on the steak. When they cut to a shot of a crowd in Boston at some sporting event you don't see kids jumping in front of the camera with lobsters clamped on our tits.
The world, in case you haven't noticed, has become very small. And while regional differences still exist, it's safe to say that by this point the recipes for mass-produced, bourgeoisie comfort food aren't top secret anymore. I could walk down the street right now and find a half dozen restaurants with an African born German chef who trained at the top sushi restaurants in Paris serving a traditional Spanish peasant's stew he learned about traveling through Italy. It's probably not that hard to mimic the drizzling fake cheese over shaved steak techniques we all remember so fondly from some turd-water diner in Philly.
It's the same instinct at work here that is responsible for a lot of List-worthy behavior. Just because you have fond memories of something doesn't mean it was the same life-changing shit for everyone else. Just because your first time trying something happened in a specific location doesn't mean those were the ideal circumstances under which all subsequent similar experiences must be held in comparison.
The first time I ever learned how to jerk off was by playing around with some sun tan lotion accidentally when I was young. That doesn't mean it's ok for me to get a boner every time I smell coconut for the rest of my life. I mean, I still do, but it's not ok.
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7 comments:
so many people i know who've lived in san fran tell me pretty hard how good the tacos are there. also, have a buddy who moved to nyc who said somesuch about wishing he could get a decent slice of pizza while he was visiting up here. saying that.
no, you don't get it though. it's the water in new york city that makes the pizza better. that's shit you can't replicate anywhere else in the world. it has nothing to do with the idea that you're a dude "Eating a Slice in New York City" that makes it taste like magic.
what about tossed salad in prison versus other places?
prison rape jokes are very popular here for some reason.
glad I hung in there til the last paragraph
try ordering a "philly cheese steak" using those words in any other variation. "I'd like a steak and cheese philadelphia style please". You might as well beat the cashier to a bloody pulp in front of the cheesesteak maker dude because that's what his reaction is gonna be like.
I would like the chowder with clams with a side of beans baked in the Boston style.
Hmm, I suppose that sort of thing could sound weird.
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