Results tagged “enrico campitelli” from Drama Queen
While most of you are preoccupied with getting your Halloween costumes just right for tonight--we're all drama geeks here, so don't front like this isn't your favorite holiday--those of us in Philly are just a little bit preoccupied by today's parade, which starts at noon.
That's why this week I'm macking on: The Philadelphia Phillies! And since we're all drama geeks here, some of you might not know that they won the World Series on Wednesday night. Now you can shock the hell out of that brother-in-law who's always making fun of you. You're welcome.
The truth is, I don't even really like baseball. But I'll tell you what: I love me some Philadelphia. When I walked in the door after Wednesday's theater opening (Inquirer review here), you can bet I knew we were already up a run. I was hoping to take my kids out of school today too, just like my parents took me out of school to cheer my way down Broad Street for Mike Schmidt, Greg Luzinski, Gary Maddox, Pete Rose, Steve Carlton, Larry Bowa, Tug McGraw and the rest of 'em in 1980. But instead, my son wants to have cake at his class' Halloween party; he must get it from the New Jersey side of the family, the Yankee-loving bums.
What's best about Philly fandom is its unabashed Philly-ness. Blogger Enrico Campitelli of The700Level.com (the 700 Level refers to the notoriously rowdy section at the Phillies'/Eagles' old Vet Stadium) heard this guy on the radio one morning, got a bright idea, and this was the result. The New York Times picked up the story (see second entry, "Finally, Yous Can"), and "Why Can't Us?" has been a rallying cry throughout our scuzzy illiterate principality ever since. As it turns out, us certainly can. I'll raise a Yuengling to that any day.
This week I'm hating on: Social media networks, or whatever they're calling them these days. That makes two weeks in a row, but this week it's worse. I'm spending so much time monitoring the various free ways to promote my blog and my writing and my conversational skills that it's actually encroaching--no, make that decimating--the time I used to spend doing actual journalism for actual pay, and completely reinforcing every narcissistic impulse that crosses my synapses, which also can't be good for said journalism. Although it being Halloween and all, this monitor-glazed pallor makes for one helluva zombie.
And screw Twitter, that's the least of the problem, although I admit to panicking a little every morning at the thought of all the tweets I missed by sleeping. Now, I spend all day trying to keep up with Twittermoms, BlogHer, an ever-expanding list of Facebook friends, the zillion blogs I follow, Google Alerts, LinkedIn; at least someone finally declared MySpace lame. Every last Ted Kasczynski-quoting one of you was right. It's too late for me now, but you can save yourselves. Go on without me, and please remember, I suffered so you don't have to. But if you do end up joining Facebook, I'll totally friend you.
Below: The "Fightin's"