I love everything right now. I love that the Eagles are going to the Super Bowl. The Super Bowl, BABY! I love that they’re playing the Patriots with a chance to dethrone football royalty and exorcise the demons that still loom from a Super Bowl 39 loss and have haunted this city and its people since. I loved watching fans erupt into the streets throughout the city last night to celebrate this run, a run so many foolishly thought impossible. Fans like this guy:

“Fuck that grease!” What a city.

Anyway, you know what else I love? Taking the low road. I can’t help it. There’s just something so wholly satisfying about rubbing a naysayer’s face in it. It’s such an aggressive and gratifying release. Does this make me a bad person? Maybe. Is it indicative of a personality disorder? Absolutely, but I’m owning it—the thought of Minnesota Vikings fans waking up in misery this morning makes me feel good inside. They were so damn sure that their team was going to the Super Bowl, and why wouldn’t they have been? Every talking head, analyst and football writer told them how great the defense was, how solid Case Keenum was, how they were rooting for a team of destiny. Nick Foles? Against that defense. No way. I mean, how much of this stuff did they see this week?

What’s more, Minneapolis papers, radio hosts, and Vikings fans mocked our city and were liberal with the cheap shots. Some even bought plane tickets to come here. They thought they were cute.


They just knew their team was about to become the first in the Super Bowl era to play for the Lombardi Trophy in front of a home crowd. And so, in light of last night’s events, I’d like to pause the celebration and offer a hearty and well-earned “go fuck yourself” to everybody who took one of those shots, and a second helping to everybody who once again so disrespectfully counted out this team and this city. I thought that maybe I was being a bit immature about this whole thing, but then I saw this:


I can’t even imagine what it’s like to live in Minnesota right now. The people there bought bad information, ran their mouths for the one week they were actually relevant, watched their team’s season go down in flames, and now…they have to deal with Eagles fans invading their city to watch the Super Bowl they talked all that shit about. Too perfect. As for those that just didn’t believe, it’s not that hardly anybody picked the Eagles that makes it so sweet–that’s fair game–it’s how the team was so thoroughly dismissed and laughed off. How did that work out?

Tough one, kiddo. And I hate to tell ya’, but it’s only going to get worse over the next two weeks. Hey Minnesota, get ready for this in your face:

At this point, my only concern is that people like this ass clown are starting to wake up:

Stay away, you heel. I don’t want your apologies, concessions, or respect. Talk up Brady, talk up Belichick, and say Nick Foles had an out-of-body experience on Sunday night. Tell me the 352 yards and three touchdowns can’t happen again. Say it won’t and pile it on. Horses. Snowballs. Batteries. Slander us. I want continued and uninterrupted disrespect. Full masochism. I want this city and team to continue its month-long embrace with the underdog persona. I want Tom Brady. I want the Patriots. And two weeks from now–I want to write this same story one more time.