Art Credit: Jessica Brown Instagram @PaintedBlunting
Amidst an ongoing imperial collapse and a global pandemic. Residents of the City of Brother Love might have lost sight of the little things, like wooder on a hot day or walking several blocks without receiving a single form of street harassment. But with some time to reflect, it’s safe to say that Philadelphia’s raging inferiority complex has returned to the folds of the collective conscious, moister and wilder than ever.
Recent offensive, defensive, and health struggles have marked a new stage of disenchantment for 76ers’ Fans. The once revered “Process” now considered a shibboleth of economic austerity, Philadelphians are increasingly turning towards anti-fandom, millennial dada bullshit that arises in the absence of hope.
Shelly Silverstein of Shining Path Yoga, posted the following in between pictures of sunset silhouetted yoga poses and Marxist-Leninist propaganda - “I like to think the world is one big living organism, flowing, energy with a home in us all. But when I see our Sixers play, I see the thoughtless bourgeois void grow ever stronger in our world. It makes me lose hope in my strongest beliefs, that every human being has the ability to connect with another. That the genius of class struggle is eminently transmittable through touch and revolutionary theory. How many times do I have to see Ben Simmons drive yet be afraid to get fouled and then kick to an oblivious Tobias Harris, or witness gastrointestinal distress keep Joel Embiid from going to the basket and instead take a piddling jumper that probably makes him poop himself. And maybe world peace isn’t possible, but if it is, I can’t keep trusting the process. That’s not praxis.”
A prominent twitter account @CheezeSteakShitz tweeted “what would make my life worth living? bad replies only plz.” leading to a firestorm of memeing which ended in one glorious suggestion now under careful consideration by the Philadelphia Front Office. The million dollar idea- turn the beloved Seventy Sixers into greased pigs.
While sticky substances are nothing new in sports, having powered the Oakland Raiders offense of 80’s and countless spitballing careers, Slicky substances are a new frontier, a growth market with the potential for a total monopolization of thought leading to a smooth brained society predicated on the silkyness of sliding around one another, till we are all baby seals in a vast ocean of toxins.
The logic is simple sex ed, where there is friction put lubrication, where there is constipation use a stool softener. By coating Al Horford head to toe in bacon drippings, we reduce the amount of energy he has to spend moving up and down the floor, giving him additional quickness of thought and mind, as well as lengthening the clock on his ticking time bomb of a contract.
However, some players have expressed skepticism. “I just don’t see how we can comply with social distancing while generously applying saturated fats to every square inch of our bodies.” marked a Sixers shooting guard who wished to remain anonymous “The truth is, and I know this isn’t popular in our individual centered culture, but sometimes you miss a spot and you need someone to help you out. It’s difficult enough as it is to get that game grime off without having a buddy to get that middle of the back area, but adding this new step is basically just asking people to break social distancing. What, am I not supposed to notice another man oiling up, how inviting he is, how beautiful he is, like a decadent cake, how we could just go on a sizzling pan together and crisp and crack an egg. Wow that’s breakfast right there.”
As another sunset begins in Orlando, the team is preparing a multi-course lipid sampling session for players in advance of Tuesday afternoon’s match against the red hot Phoenix Suns. Meanwhile, Joel Embiid’s masked entourage has been spotted moving south at 9th St and Christian asking the proud Italian Market businesses for used grease at a discount price. It appears they are seeking their own sourcing of high quality flavor blaster, perhaps speaking to a riff or distrust with management.
Local Legend Allen Iverson summed it up best remarking “All I can say, is that this shit is stupid. Fucking stupid. But hey, it’s Philly.”