Eggs belong at breakfast, not on Patullo’s house | Weekly Report Card

Listen — Philly has a reputation. We know this. We wear it like a badge. We boo Santa, we heckle refs, we meltdown on WIP like it’s an Olympic sport. But there’s passion, there’s unhinged, and then there’s driving to Moorestown at 3 a.m. to egg the offensive coordinator’s house because the Eagles lost to the Bears.

That’s not passion. That’s just loser behavior.

Patullo said all the right things this week. That criticism is part of the job, that he’s been here five years, that he loves the city and the fans. But he also made it clear: When it involves your family, the line isn’t just crossed… it’s obliterated. And he’s right. Yell at the TV, tweet about it, call WIP at 6 a.m. pretending to be “Bryce from Bridesburg.” But families are off-limits.

The good news? Neighbors rallied, the community reached out, and Patullo isn’t going anywhere — not from his home, and not from the sidelines (despite Nick Foles’ dream of him coaching from the booth like it’s Madden franchise mode).

Philly can take a joke, a hit, and a heartbreak season. What we can’t take is letting a few clowns make us look like we egg coaches every time the offense ranks 24th in yards.

Save the eggs for tailgates. Or better yet, breakfast.

A new national survey says the top city Americans want to visit just for food is… Philadelphia. Not New York. Not Chicago. Not Texas’ brisket country. Philly.

All because of one thing: the cheesesteak, which topped the national list with 27% of Americans saying it’s their dream domestic “foodcation.” Translation: People are now booking vacations around a sandwich we buy at 1 a.m. like it’s no big deal.

Food & Wine says Americans spend about $910 on their typical food-focused trip and would nearly double that budget if the bite was bucket-list–worthy. So somewhere out there is a family justifying a $2,000 vacation to stand outside Angelo’s at 10 a.m. behind 70 locals who think they have “a system.”

Meanwhile, New York tied us at 27% for pizza — but let’s be serious. A cheesesteak beating out an entire city’s worth of pizza is so Philly-coded it should count as a parade.

Waymo has officially begun testing its robo-taxis in Philly — which raises the obvious question: Have they seen our streets?

The company says its cars are now driving autonomously (with a human babysitter for now), mapping our neighborhoods and “laying the groundwork” to eventually chauffeur actual Philadelphians around.

Bold. Truly bold. Because sure, a driverless car can operate in Phoenix. But can it:

City officials say they’re “monitoring the situation,” which is Philly-speak for: If this thing blocks a SEPTA bus, there will be consequences. Meanwhile, Waymo has been chatting with local groups — the Bicycle Coalition, Best Buddies — which is smart, because they’ll need all the friends they can get once these cars try to merge on I-95.

Only in the Greater Philadelphia region could a man with a guitar, a thick Delco accent, and a dream turn random Wawa parking lots into 100-person pop-up concerts — and somehow it feels… correct.

“Delco Donny,” the alter ego of musician Jake Dillon, started as a joke for his girlfriend’s Delco mom, reported Philly Voice. Now he’s pulling six-figure TikTok views by belting out Oasis, the Killers, and “Creep” between parked Hyundais and people sprinting inside for Sizzlis. At his Boothwyn Wawa show, fans were literally acting like he was Noah Kahan, except with more vowels flattened and more hoodies with paint stains.

The shtick is simple: He shows up, leans into the Delco accent America learned during Mare of Easttown, and sings like he’s headlining the Spectrum in 1996. And people eat it up. Wawa corporate even started sending him merch, which is basically the Delco version of getting knighted.

There’s something kind of pure about it: a Northeast Philly native channeling a fictional Boothwyn legend who meditates in a cluttered van, reviews local pizza joints, and humbly accepts Marlboro Reds as offerings from the people. The man is doing character work in a gas-station parking lot, and somehow it feels like local folklore in the making.

In the most Philadelphia plot twist imaginable, the Wanamaker Grand Court took what could’ve been a gut punch — Macy’s closing, holiday traditions dangling by a thread — and turned it into a full-blown victory lap complete with a wreath-wearing Wanamaker Eagle, opera singers, dinosaur dancers, and an organ flex so powerful it could rattle the Market-Frankford Line.

“Home for the Holidays,” Opera Philadelphia’s one-night takeover, wasn’t just a concert, it was a statement. Philly looked at a soon-to-be shuttered space and said, Fine, then we’re going out in style. The whole night doubled as a nostalgia bomb: marching-toy projections for anyone who remembers buying Christmas presents in the old store, an audience gasping at the tree like it was 1978 again, and the ground-shaking Wanamaker Organ.

But the real Philly heart came from the subtext: This was also a campaign to keep the space public, alive, and musical long after renovations. You don’t raise $1 million for a Pipe Up! series unless you’re gearing up for a fight.

For the first time since 2011, cruise ships will actually leave from the Philadelphia region — not Baltimore, not Bayonne pretending to be New York. Right next to PHL, on the Delco side of the river.

PhilaPort struck a deal with Norwegian Cruise Line, building a new terminal in Tinicum Township with 41 voyages already on the books over the next two years, reported 6ABC. Norwegian’s locked in through 2033, sending thousands to Bermuda, the Bahamas, Canada, and New England, all sailing straight out of the airport’s backyard.

It’s a major comeback for a region that hasn’t had a real cruise hub in more than a decade, and the timing couldn’t be better with the 250th, the World Cup, and the All-Star Game all landing next year. Economic impact? Around $300 million annually. Jobs? More than 2,100.

And yes, it’s a six-hour ride down the Delaware before you hit the Atlantic. Philly’s response: New York isn’t much faster, Baltimore is way slower. So grab a drink and enjoy the shoreline.

Franklin Mills, the place where Northeast Philly teens found Hot Topic, freedom, and an alarming amount of Orange Julius, is officially on the market. Again. After years of falling occupancy, collapsing value, and visitor counts dropping from 20 million a year in the ’90s to 5.6 million today, it’s basically being lilsted as: “137 acres… willing to become literally anything.”

Industrial redevelopment? Sure. Warehousing? Probably. Housing? Maybe, if City Council blesses it. A mall again? As one architect put it: “Unlikely.” (Philly translation: absolutely not.)

This place is 1.8 million square feet (second only to King of Prussia), but while KOP is still the superstar of malls, Franklin Mills slowly slid into its “legacy act” phase. The valuation dropped from $370 million in 2007 to $76 million last year. Even the name had to be changed back because Simon Property Group kept the Mills trademark, which feels like getting your hoodie taken in a breakup.

Real talk: The building is basically a demolition project waiting for a permit. But to its credit, 65% occupancy means it isn’t a ghost town yet — just a mall trying to remember who it used to be.

It might become warehouses, apartments, or over a million square feet of “don’t worry, it’ll create jobs.” But one thing’s for sure: If Northeast Philly wakes up to find a sea of Amazon vans where Franklin Mills once stood, people will still call it Franklin Mills.

And honestly? Same.