Icepack | Feb. 18-25
Me. Me. Me. Us. Us. Us. Philly. Philly. Philly.
Let’s move from our weekly, masturbatory, self-focused navel gazing and Michael van der Veen’s dumb new name for us (“Phileeeeeedelphia?” Wha?) shall we? Into something broader and bigger than those of us between Port Fishington and the Devil’s Pocket usually account for: Pennsylvania. Home to the Farm Show and its fiberglass cow sculptures, the Hi-Hat, The Patriot-News, WHBG-TV, the Harrisburg Lunatics inline hockey squad, and our gubernatorial seat of power and Tom Wolf.
Yup. Not since Milton Shapp have I wanted to psychically nose tweak a sitting governor (or a standing one for that matter) for the multitude of stupid things they execute on a regular basis (and yes, this includes sinister Tom Corbett’s way-too-close proximity to Penn State and all cloistered things Sandusky). Yes. Wolf, like Philly’s boss Jim Kenney, has made a fucking mess out of the pandemic, from who gets the vaccine first,