The Rapture and Gritty’s birthday fell on the same day — coincidence?

Only in Philly can a random rowhouse turn into a campaign headquarters for a man who is neither from here, nor actually running. A South Philly house hung up a “DeVito for Governor” flag, Reddit noticed, and the comments section basically turned into a live-action episode of It’s Always Sunny.

“You gotta pay the troll toll 💰.”

“He will offer us eggs in trying times.”“Rum hams for everyone.” And my personal favorite: “Depends if he’s running as the Democrat who’s going to blast me in the ass, or the Republican who’s going to blast me in the ass. It’s all one big assblast.”

One commenter even took credit, in credible Philly fashion: “lol aye this is my house and flag.” Whether true or not, it feels perfectly on brand.

Do we need Asbury Park’s Danny DeVito in Harrisburg? Absolutely not. Would it make politics exponentially more entertaining? Without question. Imagine a State of the State that ends with, “So anyway, I started legislating.”

The Sixers just pulled off their best offseason move, and it didn’t involve a trade or free agent. They brought back the Iverson-era black jerseys — the most iconic look this team has ever had. They’re sleek, they’re mean, and honestly? Maxey and Embiid look damn good in them.

But here’s the thing: nostalgia only works if the present lives up. Iverson never delivered the parade, but he gave us grit and moments burned into Philly sports history. Twenty-five years later, the current squad is still trying to prove they’re built for more than second-round heartbreak. The jerseys? A+. The vibes? Immaculate. The team wearing them? Let’s just say you can’t stitch championship banners out of nostalgia.

Getting called “Philly’s most disappointing new restaurant” in a Philly Mag review has to sting. But instead of sulking, Fishtowns’s Percy leaned all the way in: they slapped the insult on a T-shirt and promised to donate every $20 sale to the Fishtown Library. Then they tagged Philly Mag and told them to match. That’s not damage control, that’s straight-up Philly judo.

Only in this city would people line up to buy a shirt that celebrates failure — and feel good about it. Philly loves an underdog, even if it’s brunch beignets that taste like “burnt diner coffee.” And look, reviews are part of the deal. Craig LaBan hands out tough grades all the time, and nobody’s immune. But flipping a bad write-up into merch, a fundraiser, and a middle finger (with a smile) is a move worthy of respect. Percy might still need to figure out the menu, but the marketing? Chef’s kiss.

Brad Ingelsby is back on his Delco bullsh —, and we are absolutely eating it up. Task crams in more Easter eggs than an Acme the day before Easter Sunday: KYW traffic hits, Springfield shout-outs, Marcus Hook (!!), the Llanerch Diner, even “smacked ass” in the dialogue. It’s basically a drinking game for anyone who grew up within earshot of the Blue Route.

Yes, Mark Ruffalo doesn’t quite say “wooder” and his “Acme” is suspiciously normal, but who cares? The show still nails the chaos, the drawl, and the dad-bod FBI energy. Does it pander? Completely. But when the pandering feels this specific — like, “I can’t believe Marcus Hook is trending” specific — it turns into validation. Mare of Easttown walked so Task could stumble drunk into Lou Turk’s.

Sept. 24, 2025: For most of the internet, that date signified the latest prediction for when the rapture would occur (the actual prediction was sometime between the 23rd and 24th, because good doomsday prophets like to leave a margin of error.)

But in Philly, we noticed something important. Sept. 24 isn’t just the maybe-date for humanity’s grand finale — it’s also Gritty’s birthday. Yes, the orange menace himself was “born” Sept. 24, 2018, and has been haunting our collective consciousness ever since.

Which raises the real theological question: if the Rapture happens on Gritty’s big day, who’s in charge? Does Gritty ascend to become the world’s new chaotic overlord? Or does he stay behind to torment the Flyers’ penalty kill for all eternity?

Reddit’s already on it: some say Gritty would be assigned to “patrol those of us who DON’T get raptured,” others picture him grabbing ankles to keep Philadelphians here with him. Honestly, both track.

All we know is this: if the skies open up and Gritty is the one descending from the clouds, well … good luck to the rest of the world.

Delco’s got a reputation: the accent, the antics, and now, the air. This week, a mystery stench rolled through the county, sparking 40+ gas-leak calls to PECO and a flood of social media theories. Maybe it’s the Springton Reservoir burping up sulfur, maybe it’s that heating-oil spill, or maybe it’s just Delco being Delco.

Here’s the thing: this isn’t even the first time. Delco had a monthslong funk back in 2020. At this point, “What’s that smell?” might as well be the county motto. A failing grade for fresh air. But at least they’re consistent.

Philly loves to say we’re a city of neighborhoods, of art, of culture. But sometimes it feels like we’re a city of demolition permits. The Painted Bride, wrapped for decades in Isaiah Zagar’s glittering, chaotic, one-of-a-kind mosaic, is set to come down for yet another block of apartments with ground-floor retail.

Sure, developers promise they’ll sprinkle in a shard or two of the old mural, maybe tuck some tile into a courtyard wall. But let’s be real: no one comes to Old City to gawk at “6,000 square feet of commercial space.” They came for the Bride. They came for the art.

Neighbors fought, Magic Gardens fought, even architecture critics fought, but the wrecking ball won. It’s hard not to feel like Philly keeps cashing in its soul for another set of luxury rentals.