Nothing Screams America Like Wing Bowl

Booze, babes and bitter cold temperatures. There’s just nothing quite like WIP’s Annual Wing Bowl to sum of the Philadelphia fan.

Oh yeah and there’s wings in case anyone cares.

The annual contest features the worlds’ most gluttonous men and women downing ungodly pounds of chicken wings while nations across the world starve.

Our fore fathers really missed out on this one.

While “Proud to be an American” blasts throughout the Wells Fargo Center, teams of intoxicated participants and their entourages stroll around the arena on home made floats as they make their way to the eaters podium.

Where else can you casually bump into Ron Jeremy (luckily it’s freezing out) as he strolls about the ceremony wearing red clogs rocking the same hairdo since ’73?

Where else can you see the worlds’ greatest competitive eater Kobayashi, wearing a personalized Philadelphia Flyers jersey serving as the events 19th year commish of honor?

Where else can you see guys like the Polish Assassin, Super Squibb and El Wingador consume thousands of wings?

Where else can you watch twenty five competitors in all (scandal struck as No. 26 backed out, a completion first) while Vegas like odds predict the $50k poultry pounding winner?

Or Megatron mega hooters?

No where USA, that’s where.

About the only thing missing was the Colonial himself.

All the festivites begin at 6:00 am sharp while over 20,000 inebriated college students and middle aged men go wild for less than quality strippers flossing American flag bikinis carrying their fanny packs of cottage cheese while savoring their undeserving 15 minutes of fame.

It’s beer goggle paradise and memories to cherish for a lifetime.

All the while Philadelphias’ best sports talk radio personalities and athletes talk about the important stuff like sports that fall upon deaf years except for the guy who lost his buzz because he was caught smuggling that last beer inside the event instead of hammering it in the parking lot.

Today is a day to be proud America. Embrace the art of the chicken wing, embrace these athletes that are willing to put their very lives at risk, on the spot mind you, as they down 200 plus wings each. Enjoy the beauty of the mechanical bull, ladies only please and the first annual Donovan McPuke Award- awarded to the first chump to puke- much like McNabb did throughout the biggest moments of his Eagles career.

It’s all on the line on February 4, where Punksatoney Phil takes a back seat to the live chicken that watches with open beak ready to maul the first heart attack victim.

PETA, Jenny Craig and child services turn a blind eye as whole chicken farms are slaughtered, men crush New Year weight loss resolutions and small children hold the hands of their heroic fathers in awe and appreciation for teaching them the female anatomy at the age of five while sipping on their first PBR pounder.

The spectacle is unofficially the unofficial passage into manhood.

This is Philadelphia. This is what the City of Brotherly love has to look forward to year after year when the Eagles don’t make the big game.

Pittsburgh can have the Super Bowl, Philadelphia would rather have Wing Bowl.

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