I was watching Entertainment Tonight last night and realized what has been wrong with the sports in this god awful city the past 25 years. We go through too much of the same shit year after year after year and no, it’s not just the losing, which is obviously now a way of life. It’s the manner in which we lose and the way that these organizations allegedly prepare our teams to win. It’s sickening. Losing and expecting to lose has become a gigantic root that has grown larger and larger every year, working its way into the foundation of the city. It needs to be cut so the healing process can begin, and winners can grow. We can’t win because we think we’re different. We know we’re losers. It’s amazing what kind of revelations you can have from shitty Hollywood gossip shows. Like….

The Anna Nicole Smith/Danni-Lynn Saga – Apparently Entertainment Tonight is the only show in the world that actually thinks people care about Anna Nicole Smith and think her daughter, Danni-Lynn, has any clue who Anna Nicole Smith is. Every night it’s something new to report on. They’ve got Danni-Lynn at her grave in the Bahamas, they show Danni-Lynn’s corrective surgery for her lazy pirate eye, then they show Danni-Lynn watching Hannah Montana videos and wondering when it’s going to be her turn to dress up like a 15 year old hooker every day (real soon). I mean, it’s crazy. Nobody cares about Anna Nicole Smith anymore. She’s dead, just like all those innocent people Mayor Wilson Goode firebombed in the MOVE confrontation back in ’85. And you know what no one in Philly cares about? Past championships. The Philly Phanatic (I’m sorry, I too love when he dry humps women and body slams blow up dolls, but when your city is known for having the best mascot, there is something inherently wrong with that). The good old days when all of our teams were winners. Rocky. It’s over, those days are gone. This city holds onto the fading past like some 40 year old pedophile dreams of the cheerleader he used to date in 11th grade. Take down every banner in the arenas, take the Rocky statue and throw it in the fucking Delaware River, and attach explosives to the Phanatic’s four-wheeler, and blow it up while he’s riding it so he dances around centerfield on fire while burning to death. Then, give us a new mascot. Something cooler. Like a giant gun, a dragon, or maybe a huge snowball or D-sized battery. Let’s move on from this sickness now.

Britney Spears – If you had to compare Philly to any celebrity, there is no better comparison than this. Think about it. Both started out on the scene as young and hot. We had the Philadelphia A’s and Connie Mack, we had the dominant, early 76ers teams with Wilt, we had the greatness of Big 5 basketball. Britney had the Mouseketeer Club, she had Justin, she had that freshness, sparkle, tight ass in a school girl uniform (and apparently she had fake tits when she was 14). Big things were coming for the both of us. We headed into the 70s with a little uncertainty in a new NHL team and an inconsistent football and baseball team, but we saw promise. We won a couple of Stanley Cups, we got Pete Rose and Moses, and we won some more titles and even made a trip to the Super Bowl. Britney needed to shed her good girl image so she started smoking and drinking, she dressed up like a slut in her videos, she started dating white guys who thought they were black, and she even had a lesbo kiss with Madonna at the MTV Music Awards. She continued to write music that made deaf people’s ears bleed, yet she was at the top of her game. Then….disaster strikes. The Phillies get a new ownership group that couldn’t run an Asian massage parlor properly, the Flyers lose their superstar goalie to a deadly car crash and have the unfortunate pleasure of being good in an era dominated by the mighty Oilers, the Sixers get old (and Shaun Bradley), and the Eagles never lived up to their potential while the rest of the NFC East wins multiple Super Bowls and we get Rich Kotite. As for Britney, the rest of the world finally realizes that she is just a fat, white trash slob when she gets married twice, has two bastard children, blows all of her money, gets hooked on drugs and pain medication, gives herself an English accent, takes dumps in gas station bathrooms barefoot, shaves her head, shows up at the MTV Music Awards looking like John Candy, and starts hanging out with dirty Arabs. Like Philly, she is a joke that no one, not even her pathetic family, expects to turn it around. Just know this: when Britney Spears finally dies, it means that Philadelphia will never win another championship. We are linked in a mutual nightmare.

The Oscar Party we aren’t EVER invited to – Watching rich people praise each other is about as fun as watching your alcoholic neighbor beat your dog to death on his front lawn. Seeing people earn millions of dollars, wear expensive clothes and jewelry, and look beautiful is a thing most people can only dream of. It only happens to the lucky people. Sort of like winning championships I guess….except instead of the Oscars, we get to watch four parades a year travel down the streets of a city not named Philadelphia. We are Philadelphia man, we should be at this goddam party. We’re the fifth largest city in this country, with four professional teams, and we have to sit at home and watch the likes of Anaheim, Boston, Tampa Bay, Carolina, Indianapolis, and Pittsburgh cry tears of joy? Even the four cities larger than us win shit. New York? Kill me. Los Angeles? They may not have an NFL team, but they have the Lakers, the Angels, and even USC. Chicago? Anyone remember the six titles Michael Jordan won or the White Sox just a few years ago? Houston? Ok, we may have them beat, but they only have three professional teams, they just got a new NFL team and the Astros recently made it to a World Series. Plus it’s Houston and only lowlifes reside there. And they’ll still win something before us. Bank on it. We are the rabid fans who sit outside the Oscars, scratching and clawing for autographs, and looking for acknowledgement from someone, anyone associated with prestige. At the end of the night when everyone is inside having the time of their lives, we walk around the block, take a blood-filled piss behind a dumpster we’ve been holding in for six hours, and get in our cars and drive home to our dumpy house and lifeless family. Watching fans like the New York Giants’ celebrate another Super Bowl parade is like looking at your wife and hating her for forcing you to start a family you never wanted in the first place. We want a mother fucking Oscar.

The bottom line is this: We are not Cubs fans. We are not loveable losers. We like to win and we want to hurt people in parking lots. We will never accept losing, but I’m afraid we may be getting real close.